


Only One Thing I Love More Than Plants

by areyoukiddingmedude



Series: Red Diamond [1]
Category: DC Animated Universe, DCU, Harley Quinn (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Major Character Undeath, red diamond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-21 16:45:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 27,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6058645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoukiddingmedude/pseuds/areyoukiddingmedude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivy and Harley's whole story together, from their origins through Sirens, plus the sexytimes I always wanted them to have. True to canon. </p><p>Update, June 2016: I'm going to pick up the story in Part 2 and bring it up to current DCU timelines!<br/>Also, I've been trying to think of a new ship name forever ("Harlivy" just never did it for me), and this morning it came to me...Red Diamond! So if you like that, feel free to steal it and tag your own fics with it. Or let me know if you have one you like better!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Friends

They’re best friends, “girlfriends,” partners in crime. They have mutual respect for one another, in part because they’re intellectual equals (well, almost). There’s love there, its exact nature undefined, and it can shift from day to day. And at times, there’s something more there – in a look, a touch, when the rigid one bends, when the silly one gets serious. 

Harley dances, bounces around the truth. Ivy mostly ignores it so she can retain her composure.   
Except tonight.

It would never work. It should never have gone this far. She should have been more careful. 

Dr. Pamela Isley stared out the window of some penthouse, which she’d coaxed with no resistance from some nameless piece of meat. She was better known as supervillain Poison Ivy, but the doctor was certainly in tonight. Her PhD brain was working overtime as she indulged her tendency to overanalyze. 

“What’s up, doc?” 

Ivy allowed herself a small smile before turning to face the very subject of her overanalysis, who was shaking the snow from her pigtails as she burst through the door. 

(Harley burst through everything. Doors, hearts, life.)

“That joke never gets old,” said Ivy, turning to face her. 

“You pretend not to like it, but we both know it always gets a smile,” said Harley. She kicked her boots against the floor, then slipped them off and padded over to Ivy in her sock feet. 

She was going to hug Ivy, but Ivy turned back to face the window, and Harley quickly hid her disappointment and stood beside her, facing out. Harley was used to these pensive moods of Ivy’s and usually didn’t mind. 

They were quiet for a minute. Maybe 5 seconds. But either way, Harley couldn’t take the silence anymore, and she bumped Ivy’s hip with her own. 

“Hey.” 

Ivy looked at her sideways, again with that little half-smile. “Hey.” 

“Seriously, what’s up?” Harley asked. “Did something happen at work today?” Ivy was a staff scientist at S.T.A.R Labs and tended to be obsessive about her work, sometimes staying at the lab overnight. 

Ivy shook her head. “No…I’ve just been thinking.” 

Harley put her hand to her forehead, walked away, and pretended to faint onto the couch. “Good grief, Red! How many times have I told you: thinking is the worst way to spend a Friday night?” 

Ivy’s smile widened. “And just how would you recommend I spend my Friday night?”

Harley leaned up on her elbows. “Now you’re talking! I have a few ideas.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Ivy suggestively. Ivy walked over to the couch, leaned over the arm…and threw a pillow at Harley, who let out an “Oof!” and fell backwards off the couch. 

“Got you, Harl!” said Ivy, enjoying her small victory – at least, until a leg swept her feet out from under her and she went down in a tangle of green limbs, laughing. 

Harley rolled over on top of Ivy and held her shoulders down. “No – I got you.” 

Suddenly, Ivy felt the pressure of Harley’s hips on hers. And Harley became aware of how close her face was to Ivy’s. An errant drop of melted snow rolled down Harley’s pigtail and splashed on the carpet next to Ivy’s ear. 

They stopped laughing at the same time. 

Harley swallowed hard and said, “So…what were you thinking about, again?” She was faintly surprised when her voice came out an octave lower than usual. 

Ivy reached up to brush a renegade strand of hair behind Harley’s ear. Her hand trailed down Harley’s cheek to her jaw, and her thumb brushed gently across her lower lip. She stared into Harley’s eyes for a long moment, and then said “Pretty much this.” 

Harley hardly dared to breathe. She knew Ivy sometimes got spooked when they were playing like this, but this time it didn’t feel like playing. 

Slowly, slowly, never moving her eyes from Ivy’s, Harley lowered her lips to the dark green lips below her, until finally they touched in a gentle kiss. Ivy still had her hand alongside Harley’s face, and now she trailed it downward, then slid it around to cup the back of Harley’s neck, deepening the kiss. 

Harley moaned against Ivy’s full lips. She tangled a hand in Ivy’s hair and sucked gently on her bottom lip. Then it was Ivy’s turn to moan as she felt Harley’s teeth scrape over her lip lightly. 

Suddenly, Harley pulled back, surprising both of them. She groaned and rolled off to the side, then propped herself up on one elbow and looked at Ivy. “I’m going to hate myself for asking this – but what are we doing, Red?” 

Ivy turned her head to the side and regarded her coolly – well, as coolly as she could under the circumstances, with flushed cheeks and tangled hair and her breathing still slightly off-kilter. “I was under the impression that this was part of our whole…thing. Are you really going to act like this has never happened before?” 

Harley sighed and sat up, leaning against the couch. “I know…I can’t believe I stopped us either. But you just looked like you were thinking so hard before, and you said it was about – well, this – and it got me thinking, and you know I can’t stand that, and so please please tell me what you were thinking about so I can relax!”

Ivy chuckled, a low, throaty sound that never failed to send a shiver down Harley’s spine. She sat up facing Harley, kneeling in front of her, and trailed long, green fingers up and down her forearm as she spoke. “Harley…I was thinking about how this all started between us – and, to be honest, about why it shouldn’t work.” When Harley’s face fell, Ivy put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up so that blue eyes met green. “Please let me finish. You know that on paper, this – us – makes no sense.”

Ivy shook her head when Harley’s lower lip began to quiver. “Wait! I’m not explaining this well. I didn’t expect you to stop kissing me, and I didn’t think we’d have to talk about this tonight.” She released Harley’s chin and considered for a moment, tilting her head to one side. “Okay, let’s make a game of it. I’ll start. You’ll catch on.”

Harley brightened a bit at that. “Well played, Red. You know I can’t resist a good game.” 

Ivy said, “The game is called ‘Opposites.’ Here goes: I can’t stand company – except for yours, and my plants. You can’t stand to be alone.” 

Harley said, “Okay…I’m rubber and you’re glue.” Ivy shot her a look. “Fine. I’m always the first to laugh at the joke. You…don’t really joke.”

“That’s good,” said Ivy. “You see where I’m going with this. Let’s see: I’m less human every day. If not for you, I’d be almost entirely plant by now. You, on the other hand, are the most human person I’ve ever known.” 

“I’m not sure whether to be offended by that,” said Harley. “But here’s one. I play the fool. You don’t suffer fools.” 

Ivy considered for a moment, then looked resigned. “I use people. You…have been used.” 

“Yeah, but not by you, Red!” said Harley. “This is getting kinda heavy. Let’s see, I’m black and red, mayhem and fire. You’re green – but not with envy!” 

Ivy grinned at her. “Cute. But see what I mean? It’s not logical at all.” She sobered. “The last one I thought of: I’m cold but never cruel – not to you, at least.” Her voice got even quieter. “You were only cruel to me…once.” Their eyes met, and the weight of that sunk in. Harley took Ivy’s hand, and Ivy brightened slightly, enough to continue. “Yet here we are. So earlier, I started reflecting on how we got here. That’s why I was lost in thought when you got home.” 

Harley considered her friend for a minute. Then she hopped up onto the couch and patted the cushion next to her. Ivy joined her and they grinned shyly at one another. Harley settled into Ivy’s shoulder naturally, and Ivy slid an arm around her shoulders just as easily. 

“So tell me a story, Red. Tell me what it was like for you when we met, became friends…everything since then.” 

Ivy leaned over and pressed her lips to Harley’s hair, a small smile on her face. “Okay, sweet pea. Where to begin…”

It starts innocently enough, and slowly. Ivy actively avoids human contact, and while Harley can’t stand to be alone, she doesn’t exactly have a history of mutually supportive relationships.   
Yet there’s a connection there, a spark. And they’re instantly drawn to one another, closer and closer, despite the occasional interruption, be it an Amazonian excursion or a psychopathic ex. 

Next chapter: Arkham!


	2. Welcome to Arkham

Ivy had hit rock bottom. She’d thought that Jason Woodrue’s seduction and betrayal was the worst thing she’d ever have to endure. But being in this prison, this – tomb – it was worse than anything she could have imagined. Dark. Cold. Forced to feed like a human on the slop Arkham served up that day. Her body was adapted for photosynthesis, and the inefficiency of ingesting and excreting nutrients was unbearable. 

She felt like she was dying. She didn’t care if she died. She sat on the floor of her cell, knees tucked up and head down. 

She shuffled down the hall when the guards forced her out of her cell for a shower. She didn’t sleep. The hours blurred together into a gray mess. She waited for it to end.

Then, the next morning – there was a tiny ray of light. A new voice outside her cage, saying, “Miss Isley? May I call you Pamela?”

She felt mild curiosity. No one had spoken to her since she arrived, aside from orders barked by guards and cat-calling from the idiot prisoners. Ivy raised her eyes a fraction of an inch and saw an unfamiliar blonde in a white coat. 

“Welcome to Arkham. I’m Dr. Quinzel. I’ll be your psychiatrist.” Ivy snorted inwardly. Did they really think there was any hope of “fixing” her? She raised her head a little now, regarding Dr. Quinzel coolly. It was slightly jarring, but not unwelcome, to be spoken to directly. 

Ivy realized two things then: one, Dr. Quinzel was actually extending her hand through the bars. And two, she was apparently not a fan of silence. “I’m here to help you, but I hope, perhaps, we could be friends?” 

Friends. The very notion was absurd. Ivy let her head fall back down and, after a moment, mumbled: “You do realize I can concentrate enough toxins in my hand to kill you in seconds, don’t you?” 

Not a very auspicious beginning to a friendship, but Dr. Quinzel was undeterred. “All friendships have a strong foundation of trust.” 

Ivy was at a loss for how to respond, so she did the only thing that came naturally: she slowly rose to her feet (to Dr. Quinzel’s credit, she didn’t blink at seeing Ivy’s long, green body unfold), walked over to the bars, and gripped the other woman’s hand. 

It was unsettling, but not unpleasant, this feeling of touching a human being intentionally – without the intent to seduce or maim. Dr. Quinzel’s hand felt warm and alive in her cool, dry green one. Ivy could feel the slight pulse of her heartbeat where their palms touched. It occurred to her that further contact would not be entirely undesirable. She looked into the doctor’s eyes then, for the first time. Dr. Quinzel swallowed hard as their eyes met and said, rather hastily, “See? Now was that so difficult?”

It was with some regret that Ivy let her hand go. They stared at each other for a moment, unsure of how to proceed and with no idea of the long road that stretched ahead for them. 

The moment was broken by the approach of several guards escorting an inmate past Ivy’s cell. She recognized the Joker and sneered involuntarily. Despite their common enemy, Ivy felt no love for the clown. 

But as he passed, Dr. Quinzel turned to see who it was, and her eyes met the Joker’s. He looked her up and down, ever the king of his domain, and smirked. “Yum.”

Dr. Quinzel blushed and quietly said “Oh.” 

In that single moment, Ivy could see the future. Complicated emotions swirled within her: revulsion, apprehension, and – no – could that be jealousy? Mostly, she felt disgusted with herself for allowing that one strange moment of connection with a human, that one moment of weakness. 

She sat back down on the floor of her cell, put her head down, and listened as Dr. Quinzel walked away. 

She didn’t say a word to anyone for three weeks. 

But things changed, as they always do. She was required to attend several sessions a week with Dr. Quinzel, so of course Ivy tried to fight against that one moment of human connection. 

Ivy thought of her tactics during these sessions as variations on a silent theme. Her favorite was silent regal displeasure (impeccable posture, one perfectly arched eyebrow), but she alternated that with silent disdain (which involved a lot of eye-rolling) and even silent boredom (during which she would slump, chin in hand, and stare at a single spot on Quinzel’s desk). 

Dr. Quinzel, on the other hand, never lost her aura of professional cheerfulness. She obviously enjoyed the challenge, and unless Ivy was mistaken, she actually seemed to enjoy Ivy’s company. At each session, the doctor shared small stories from her own life, cracked jokes, and occasionally revealed a keen insight into Ivy’s psyche. She often seemed distracted, as if something heavy were weighing on her mind, but quickly brought her focus back to Ivy each time. And she never seemed to mind Ivy’s perpetual silence. 

One day, near the close of their session, Dr. Quinzel said, “You never answered my question, Dr. Isley.” Ivy looked at her, head cocked to one side, mentally chiding herself for showing any interest. Dr. Quinzel smiled and said, “Can I call you Pamela?” Ivy didn’t respond. 

Then Dr. Quinzel walked around the desk and stood behind Ivy’s chair. Ivy stayed motionless, not sure where this was going. She froze when Dr. Quinzel put a hand on her shoulder, fingertips lightly grazing her neck, and leaned close to whisper in her ear: “Actually, what I’d really like to call you is – Ivy.” 

Ivy froze, mindful of the emotions swirling through her. This was their first physical contact since the handshake, and she could feel the doctor’s fingers at her neck like an electric current, her breath close against Ivy’s ear. 

The doctor straightened and walked away. “Well, I think that concludes our session for today.” She knocked for the guard to come open the door. Ivy stood up and turned to her, slightly stunned. Dr. Quinzel was standing by the door, one hand on her hip and a knowing smirk on her face. As Ivy walked to the door, just before the guard opened it, Dr. Quinzel put a hand on her arm and said, “It was lovely chatting with you, as always. Oh – and at our next session, please call me Harleen.” And she winked. 

Ivy walked back to her cell in a daze. 

Two days later, she arrived for her session. As the guard shut the door, Ivy turned to the doctor, cleared her throat, and said, “Hello, Harleen.” 

Harleen said, “Hello, Ivy.” 

That smirk was back, and Ivy was powerless. 

They spent the rest of the session chatting like colleagues, like friends, maybe even like – no. Ivy wouldn’t let herself think that way. Not yet.

As the weeks went by, the two women opened up more and more. Harleen shared far more about her own life than a professional therapist would ever share with an inmate. The most challenging part for Ivy by far was keeping her mouth shut when Harleen talked about the Joker. It made her blood boil to hear how clueless her friend was being. Ivy knew manipulation, and the Joker’s expert twisting of this beautiful, intelligent woman’s heart and mind was painful to watch. 

She could see the road the two of them were on (a road that didn’t have a place for her – not that she cared about that, oh no), so it came as no surprise the day Dr. Harleen Quinzel was escorted out of Arkham, having fallen completely under the Joker’s spell. 

As she passed Ivy’s cell, their eyes met and that familiar feeling of mutual understanding, of loss, passed between them as they each held up a hand in a silent goodbye. 

Less than a day later, the guards brought in a new prisoner: Harley Quinn. Ivy raised a hand in greeting as she was led past Ivy’s cell, and Harley sadly returned her wave. 

She didn’t need to tell Ivy what had happened – it was obvious by the look on her face that the Joker had betrayed her. 

The two prisoners had hardly any opportunities to talk now, and Harley was always preoccupied with thoughts of the Joker. So they grew apart, as friends do.

Then one day, Batman secured Ivy’s release. She left Arkham, she and Harley lost touch, and Ivy did everything she could to forget how close they had been. Plants were easier, more predictable, didn’t date madmen. 

But something was always missing. 

Next chapter: The rocket ship! The super immunity juice!


	3. A Necessary Precaution

Ivy was on her own, and that’s how she liked it. 

It meant she was free – mostly. Out of Arkham, surrounded by the plants she loved, no humans to worry about. Sure, she was supposed to be helping Batman regrow the area, and she did so when it suited her. But she got to spend her days alone, doing research, dusting off that brilliant mind after long periods of disuse in Arkham. 

A life free of messy human entanglements, that’s all Ivy wanted. 

Until she didn’t anymore. 

One day, as Ivy was making her rounds through the park, she saw what looked like the wreckage of a small…rocket ship? 

That couldn’t be right. Ivy’s curiosity (and concern for the local flora) got the better of her, and as she moved closer, she heard moaning coming from the wreckage. Humans were no concern of hers, but some instinct drove her to lift debris away until she saw an all-too-familiar face. “Harley?!” 

Ivy thought: No need to get involved. 

Ivy said: “No leaves off my bush if she lives or dies.”

Ivy knew: She had no choice. She picked Harley up and took her home. 

Over the next couple of days, as Harley swam in and out of consciousness, Ivy treated her injuries and spoke to her gently when she was awake. She pieced together the pathetic story of this latest example of the Joker’s murderous abuse. He had drugged Harley, lured her to a rocket ship, and tried to crash it with her inside. But he underestimated her resourcefulness, as always. 

The Joker was still a sore spot for Ivy (though at least not literally, she thought wryly as she looked over Harley’s bruises for the thousandth time). She knew she had to tread carefully with Harley, though – her delusions had always run deep, and Ivy didn’t want to spook her. 

Then Ivy had an epiphany of sorts. She couldn’t cure Harley of her dangerous yearning for the Joker, couldn’t prevent her from running back to him the second an opportunity arose – but she could fortify her and protect her from coming to more harm in the future. And (perhaps more importantly, though she would never admit this to herself) it would allow Harley to be closer to Ivy than any other human alive could safely come.

Harley balked a little at taking the concoction, as expected. It would take time for the two of them to build to their previous level of mutual trust. But Ivy insisted: “A necessary precaution if we’re going to hang out together. I’m not called Poison Ivy for nothing. Anyone who spends a lot of time around me will pick up something nasty if they’re not properly immunized.”

Harley looked up at her, still a little woozy from her injuries but wearing the smirk that drove Ivy crazy. “So, Red, are you saying you want to spend a lot of time around me?” 

Ivy turned away before Harley could see her blush. 

The days turned into weeks, and soon it became clear to both of them that Harley wasn’t going anywhere. Harley’s injuries healed, and Ivy’s formula sped up that process considerably. The two women fell into a natural rhythm, and Harley kept the mood light enough that they soon felt comfortable around each other again. 

So of course, they decided to start committing crimes. 

In Gotham City, a vigilante is usually only a Batarang’s throw away, so it was no surprise when on one of their very first adventures, a bat-caped hero showed up to ruin the day. 

Their target was the daughter of a wealthy forester, and as they approached the party Ivy got more and more upset at the thought of the plants he’d destroyed. Harley took her arm and said “You okay?” 

This had the intriguing effect of both soothing Ivy’s anger and exciting other feelings within her. These last few weeks with Harley had been sweet torture – after living on her own for so long, eschewing the need for human contact, to suddenly crave Harley’s touch was disturbing, to say the least. But crave it she did. And since Harley was so affectionate, she was constantly touching Ivy. Every innocent hug, kiss on the cheek, or hand on Ivy’s arm made her blood pump faster until she was sure Harley could see her pulse beating in her neck. 

But they were here for a kidnapping, not so she could jump on her friend. So Ivy just shrugged it off and said, “I’m fine. Let’s go.” 

Some annoyance dressed as a bat showed up to spoil their fun, but not the one they were expecting. At one point, Harley headbutted this “Batgirl” character and crashed to the ground, and Ivy panicked. She yelled at Batgirl to get out of the way so she could check on her dearest (okay, only) friend. She forgot about the fight, the money, the reason they were there. All she could think about was Harley.

That’s the moment Ivy realized she was in trouble. 

So naturally, she buried her feelings deep down inside and pretended they didn’t exist. She knew Harley still had strong feelings for the Joker, and competing for the girl’s affections would have been beneath Ivy. 

They got out of that scrape and got into others. Ivy’s…talent for persuasion, combined with Harley’s enthusiasm for a good bashing, made them a powerful team. Harley’s lack of impulse control created plenty of opportunities for chaos. And all those moments of chaos meant that Ivy had to keep her growing feelings for the younger woman under tighter control. 

Their first Christmas together – not “together,” Ivy reminded herself – Harley got it into her head that they needed a Christmas tree. (For a Jewish girl, she really got into the Christmas spirit.) Instead, Ivy lured Batman into taking the two of them on a shopping spree, with the help of her pheromones. It was reckless, absurd – and it was fun. 

At one point, they thought they’d accidentally killed Batman and were understandably unconcerned: “We got his credit cards. What’s to worry?” As they turned to leave, Harley slipped her arm around Ivy, she returned the gesture – and as they walked away with their arms around each other, Ivy had to remind herself to keep breathing because it felt so right. They fit perfectly together. 

This had to stop. 

The challenge was, Ivy didn’t have anything to replace her feelings for Harley with. She was continuing her botany research in the hopes of obtaining new patents, and their little crime sprees were enough to keep the two of them fed. But there weren’t many opportunities to meet other people, not to mention the minor fact that she actively despised people. 

Ivy brooded over this conundrum for a while. She needed a distraction. Seducing a man with her pheromones was pointless unless he could provide some utility, but she didn’t want the liability of bringing another villain into their little family. 

Little did she know that an opportunity would soon present itself – and reveal a lot more about Harley’s feelings in the process. 

It was a normal altercation with one of the Batfools. Apparently the big man was too busy, so he sent his sidekick, and Harley and Robin were trading punches. Ivy almost lazily slid some vines over to twine around Robin’s ankles when it looked like her girl might be overcome, and she grinned as Harley taunted, “You and yer pointy-eared partner think you’re so smart. But you forgot I got a partner all my own.”

Then inspiration struck. The sidekick was cute enough – with the help of her pheromones, he could provide a distraction, and with his experience working for Batman, he might even prove himself useful in the field. Plus, although Ivy would never admit it to herself (much less to Harley), she was irritated with her inconvenient feelings and thought this might get things back to normal. 

So she dosed him. Did she do it to make Harley jealous? Of course not. Did Harley get jealous? You bet your red-and-black patootie she did. 

Robin drove the getaway car. Ivy figured why not, make him feel like he’s in control. And flirting with him was fun – it changed the dynamic that had been developing when it was just the two of them for so long. She was surprised when Robin accused Harley of getting Ivy hurt and nearly captured, but played along, saying “Sorry, dear – can I help it if he likes me better than you?”

She didn’t see the hurt look on Harley’s face in the back seat. 

At home, Robin made himself most useful – foot rubs, planning bank heists. As Ivy lavished him with her attention, she could feel Harley’s eyes on her from the background. It gave her power over not one, but two people at once. And she let herself enjoy it. 

As Harley lugged in the loot from their latest haul, Ivy overheard her saying “What about ‘Thank you, Harley’? What about ‘Just you and me, Harley’?” 

Ivy smiled and said to herself, “Oh, it’s always going to be you and me, Harley.” 

Then her sneaky girl went and gave Robin the antidote to take him out of the picture and ended up getting them both carted off to Arkham. 

Which was not the plan. 

So now she was stuck with these feelings – and some extra anger – and back in the asylum. 

Oh, well. 

Next chapter: A little bit more Batgirl – and a lot more feelings!


	4. You Ever Get the Lonelies?

At a certain point, the girls fell into a rhythm of getting caught, being taken to Arkham, escaping from Arkham, laying low for a minute, and then pulling off heists until they got caught again. 

Once, they were both lying in their adjoining cells. Harley started thinking about the Joker, and men in general, and that familiar lonely feeling crept over her. “How about you, Red? You ever get the lonelies?” 

Ivy lay there, holding a plant and surrounded by pictures of her and Harley. “Me? Not a chance. I’ve got everything I need right here.” 

Another time, they happened to be out of Arkham. But Ivy was a prisoner nonetheless. 

Some Yakuza woman had kidnapped Ivy and wanted her to join her pathetic gang, but all Ivy could think about was the picture in her head of the Yakuza bitch throwing Harley out the window. She sat there, tied to the chair and trading barbs with her captors, seeing the death of her best friend on a never-ending replay. 

When her kidnapper asked again for Ivy to join them, Ivy snapped, “After what you did to Harley? Drop dead.” The Yakuza woman said, “That pathetic clown was hardly in our league. She was a demonstration to prove I mean business.” 

Ivy tried to hide her heartbreak as she said, “She was my friend. And more important to me than you’ll ever know.”

And then she just hung her head and sat there, broken. 

Until a voice she thought she’d never hear again said “Aww! Don’tcha know Santa doesn’t come to see little girls who pout?” Ivy looked up, bewildered. “Who--?” and Harley gave her a huge hug and a joyful “Hi, Bay-bee!” 

All Ivy wanted to do was go home, but Harley had some kind of weird deal with Batgirl, so Ivy left her to deal with it. The shock of thinking she’d lost Harley and then finding her again was too much to process. 

Naturally, the stupid bat arrested Harley. Ivy went to visit her before her trial. Harley was sitting at a table, looking small in her orange jumpsuit – Batgirl had at least convinced the GCPD to let them meet in a small private room, since she was so impressed that Harley came back for her. 

Ivy came in and sat down across from her. They instantly reached for each other’s hand across the table, and Harley filled Ivy in on the details she’d missed – how she’d been so desperate to save Ivy that she deliberately got Batgirl to follow her, then convinced her to help with the rescue. (Ivy actually threw back her head and laughed at the idea that her friend got the mighty Batgirl to save a supervillain.)

Then Harley got quiet and looked down at the table. “Also, Red…I heard what you said about me, about how important I am to you. I never had anyone say that about me before.”

Ivy stroked Harley’s hand gently with her thumb, not sure what to say. Feelings still weren’t her thing. 

Harley looked up at her, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “I also had the weirdest talk with Batgirl while you were tied to that chair.” “Oh, yeah?” said Ivy, not sure where this was going. 

“Yeah,” Harley said. “I was explainin’ about how you gave me that special shot so we could play without me getting sick, and she asked if we were like this…” She held two fingers up, then crossed them pointedly. Ivy cocked her head to the side. “What does that…ohhhh! Ha! Batgirl really thought that – about us?”

Harley looked a little sad then, for some reason. “Yeah…silly, right?”

And then Ivy knew. 

And for once in her life, she didn’t stop to think. She just leaned over the table, grabbed the front of Harley’s jumpsuit, and kissed her full on the lips. 

It didn’t last long, and it was pretty chaste as kisses go. But it was sweet, and strong, and hinted at more to come. 

Ivy knew how to make an exit. She let Harley go and stood up. “I’ll pick you up after the trial, Harl,” she said – then she winked, and was out the door before Harley knew what hit her. “Wha--? I— But—”

After the trial, Harley came running out of the courthouse and hopped into Ivy’s convertible. “Free at last! Batgirl walked right into that one.” 

Ivy grinned at her and hit the gas. 

Harley turned to her. “Red – is it okay if we don’t go straight home? I want to hit the open road for a little while, taste some freedom.” 

“Sure,” said Ivy. “Anywhere in particular?”

“No, just head to the highway. I’ll know it when I see it.”

They drove for a few miles, and then Harley said, “There it is! Pull over there.” Ivy looked at her quizzically – there wasn’t anything at the exit but a dirt road into a forest – but did as she asked. 

Ivy followed the dirt road a little ways, then pulled over to the side and turned off the engine. “So, Harl, did you want to have a picnic or something? Because I didn’t pack one.” 

Harley twisted her hands nervously for a second. Then she said, “Okay,” unbuckled her seatbelt, and climbed into Ivy’s lap. 

Ivy was taken completely by surprise when she got a lapful of Harley. But she was even more stunned when, instead of going right in for the kiss, Harley draped her arms over Ivy’s shoulders and pressed her forehead to Ivy’s. “Hi,” she whispered. 

“H-hi,” stammered Ivy. Then Harley’s lips were on hers, and her hands were in Ivy’s hair, and she couldn’t talk anymore, couldn’t even think. 

The kiss was all Harley: it was messy, and chaotic, and she threw herself into it with everything she had. Their teeth crashed together as Harley gripped the back of Ivy’s head and kissed her harder. Ivy felt a jolt from her heart to the pit of her stomach…and then lower, as Harley rocked against her. Gently at first, and then more insistently until the convertible was rocking back and forth with their rhythm. 

Ivy was lost in the sensation of Harley’s body against hers, Harley’s hands fisting in Ivy’s hair, Harley’s tongue skimming Ivy’s lips. She inched her long green fingers under the very edge of Harley’s shirt (and thought about that orange jumpsuit for just a moment…hmm). Her hands stroked pale hips, and they both moaned at the additional contact. Ivy slid one hand around to Harley’s lower back and pulled her even closer, impossibly close. 

Harley’s hand got a little too tangled in Ivy’s hair, and she giggled as she tried to disentangle it. Ivy took advantage of the momentary distraction to kiss and suck along Harley’s neck, finding a spot just below her ear that made Harley breathe harder. 

Suddenly, Harley leaned down and whispered in her ear: “How do you want me?” 

Ivy was still in a haze, so it took her a minute to respond, and even then she wasn’t her normal articulate self: “Wha--? What do you mean?”

Harley said, “I mean, when we move this to the back seat, how do you want me?”

And then Ivy understood. “Oh, Harley – sweetie – we don’t have to rush this.” She took a deep breath and tried to arrange her hair. “In fact, we shouldn’t rush this.” 

Harley looked confused, and rejected, and hurt. She slumped back into the passenger seat and looked away from Ivy. 

Ivy sighed. She turned to Harley and put a hand on her arm. “Listen, Harl. I just think…things were a certain way with you and you-know-who. And they don’t have to be that way with…us.” 

Harley turned back toward her, a little, so that she was facing straight ahead, slumped down in the seat. She said, quietly, “Ivy…I know you’re not him. It’s just…this is the only way I really know how to be in a relationship.” 

Ivy felt a surge of affection for this brave, broken girl. “You know, it’s not just you. I come with plenty of my own baggage. Woodrue used me, and since then I’ve used a lot of people.” She raised a hand to Harley’s cheek. “Sweet pea, are you okay with taking it slow?”

Harley turned into her touch and nodded. She kissed the palm of Ivy’s hand, and Ivy smiled, started the car, and they pulled back onto the dirt road towards home. 

Next chapter: Angry feelings of Joker resentment!


	5. You Don't Need That Hyena

It had happened again. After their moment of connection in the car, neither of the women knew how to move forward. Harley didn’t want to move too fast and scare Ivy off. Ivy didn’t want to take any risks, to make Harley feel used, to be anything like…him. 

So they avoided talking about it, then started avoiding each other, and then Ivy got a job at a lab in another part of Gotham and it made sense for her to get a place closer to work…so she moved out. 

Ivy buried herself in her work, as always. 

Harley just lost herself. 

Ivy learned later that without her Red to keep her tethered, she was floating free – and desperate. Without Ivy to cling to, her thoughts turned to the only other person who’d ever made her feel something. 

She hatched a harebrained scheme to get the Joker out of Arkham by dressing up as Poison Ivy herself. (Ivy thought later, privately, that this may have been Harley’s way of feeling closer to her while they were apart. Which was deluded and kind of sweet.)

Ivy heard through the grapevine (an actual grapevine, naturally) that Harley had broken the Joker out of Arkham. Given Harley’s feelings for the Joker, and Ivy’s feelings for Harley, and Ivy’s utter disdain for the Joker, she decided to stay out of it as much as possible but to monitor from a distance. 

Eventually, she decided to approach Harley at the amusement park, where she was obviously working on something big at the Joker’s bidding. Thinking they were a team, when he was clearly using her as always. 

Ivy took a deep breath. “Keep your calm, Ivy,” she said to herself. “Don’t give in to your feelings – for her, for the Joker, for anything. We need to get her out of this alive.” 

Then she got close enough to talk to Harley, and all of that self-talk flew out the window. 

“You…disguised yourself as me…to get him out of jail?” 

Harley turned around, shocked, and stammered: “IVY--! Hey, um – long time no see, girlfriend! Lookin’ good! I mean – not like you don’t ever not look good, right? So, um…ha! How…how’d you find me?”

Ivy shook her head. Even in a moment like this, she found Harley’s honesty disarming. (And she did look good.) “Wasn’t hard. Been watching you for a few days, waiting to catch you alone. Wouldn’t be surprised if the Bat’s been doing the same thing…or not. He’s more interested in that clown. Typical males. Where is your ‘puddin,’ by the way? Haven’t seen him here. Heard he was hurt during the break-out…or is that too much to hope for?”

She mentally kicked herself for mentioning the Joker. In a perfect world, this would be about the two of them, without that psychotic clown coming between them. But this wasn’t a perfect world. This was Gotham. 

Ivy couldn’t help thinking back to the first time they met. That ray of light in the cold dark of Arkham, the sharp mind that gradually broke down her defenses. Reduced to this, over HIM. And she lost it. 

“You’re strong, Harley! Clever! Intelligent! I could see that the first time we met! You don’t need that hyena! He just uses you! Why do you keep going back to him?!”

She had never let Harley see this side of her before, at least not directed at her. She worried for a second what her response would be. 

But Harley just hugged her and bounced off, entirely secure in her own delusions. 

Ivy walked away, feeling for the first time like she might have lost her friend forever. 

She went home to her empty apartment and sank down in a chair, lost in thought. How could she save Harley from the Joker, when she couldn’t even save her from herself? 

Wait – that was something. She couldn’t keep the two of them apart, but maybe she could protect Harley another way. 

Ivy pulled a box out from under her bed. She lay a hand on it wistfully for a second and then lifted off the lid. She lifted out a red-and-black outfit and smiled. 

Back at the amusement park, things played out as expected. The Joker was evil, hated Harley, and Ivy ended up taking a bullet for her. As she lay there, everything growing dimmer, she thought of that light again. If she could see it one last time…

Then she heard, “IVY?! Why’re you dressed like this, girl? Heck – even I wouldn’t dress like this if I had your figure!” and she was surprised to find that even in a moment like this, Harley could still make her smile. She croaked, “Think…think you’re the only one…can disguise herself?”

But Ivy survived (with the help of Dr. Quinzel, of course), and soon it was just the two of them, as it should be. They stood side by side on a rooftop, and Ivy basked in the morning sun. 

After Harley’s enraged response to seeing Ivy hurt at the Joker’s hands, Ivy thought this might be a breakthrough for her friend. So when Harley said, “Y’know, it’s funny – I still can’t believe Mr. J was tryin’ to kill you!” Ivy lost it a little. She snapped, “Harley! He wasn’t! Don’t you understand that?”

Harley looked lost as she gazed out over Gotham. She was uncharacteristically quiet as she said, “Yeah…yeah, I do. See, that’s why I can’t believe he was tryin’ to kill you…’cause I know he was tryin’ to kill me.”

Ivy gathered the smaller woman into her arms. She kissed the top of her head and murmured, “Oh, sweet pea.” They stood like that for a minute, just holding each other. Then Ivy pulled back a little, tilted Harley’s chin up, and gently kissed her. There was so much she wanted to say, but she knew Harley needed time to heal – and, hopefully, to come to her own realization about the Joker. So she held her, and kissed her, and they stood together until the sun was all the way up. 

A few weeks later, Harley threw a slumber party. Ivy couldn’t take her eyes off of her friend, whose infectious enthusiasm brought together uptight presidential aides, scantily-clad bounty hunters, and one antihero who would soon enough become their friend – the unlikely third member of their group. 

By the end of the night, Harley realized that it was a turning point for her. When she declared that it was time to prove herself solo, not to be the sidekick anymore, Ivy had never felt prouder – and she beamed. 

Of course, this burst of independence meant that instead of moving back in together (which Ivy had privately hoped for), Harley would be striking out on her own for a while. 

But when Harley was happy, Ivy was happy.

One day, she heard a rumor that every gunslinger and caped crusader in Gotham was after her girl, so she tracked Harley to her hideout, where she was attempting some kind of matchmaking scheme for an FBI agent and some man. 

Harley kept her cool, as always: “EEE! Ivy! You gotta stop sneakin’ into a person’s secret hideout like that, gal-pal!”

It turned out that Harley had been dressing up as Batgirl (sometimes, Ivy thought it best not to try to understand her plans too thoroughly), and Ivy got to save Harley at the end in the Batgirl costume. 

Which, if Ivy were to be completely honest with herself, was kind of hot. 

As she lowered them both to the ground, Harley clutched her so tightly that Ivy grunted, “Nnh! This outfit’s…tight enough as it is…Harley.” 

Harley loosened her grip a little, turned so she was facing Ivy and slid her arms up around Ivy’s shoulders. “Is that better?” 

Ivy gulped – it had been a long time since they’d been this close, and alone. “Yes,” she breathed, sliding her own arms around Harley’s waist. 

Harley looked up at her, her eyes darkening with arousal and her mouth quirking with anticipation. “But that costume still looks a little tight on you, especially right…here.” She trailed a single finger down Ivy’s neck, to her collarbone, finally landing gently on Ivy’s cleavage. Meanwhile, she slowly backed Ivy up until she was against the wall of the roof’s one stairwell. 

Ivy gulped again. She wondered if this was what it felt like to be dosed by her pheromones, because she was powerless to resist Harley at the moment. “What are you going to do about it?” she whispered. 

Harley spread both hands across Ivy’s hips, then slid them around to her back and found the hidden zipper there. She tilted her face up to Ivy’s, and her smile was so hungry that Ivy actually shivered a little. 

Then Harley was dragging the zipper down, and her mouth was hot against Ivy’s, and her body was pressing Ivy hard against the wall. 

She pulled back for a second, and Ivy tried to clear her head. Was this too much? But then she saw the wicked grin on Harley’s face and felt her hands move to Ivy’s shoulders as she pulled the Batsuit down to Ivy’s waist. 

“Harley!” gasped Ivy, shocked. They were on a rooftop, for god’s sake. Harley, for her part, seemed equally stunned by the sight before her. “Holy shit, Red! You’ve been holdin’ out on me! Why haven’t I gotten to see these before?” Before Ivy could respond, Harley crushed their mouths back together, exploring Ivy’s mouth lightly with her tongue even as her fingers found Ivy’s nipples, first lightly rubbing over the top of them and then rolling them until Ivy moaned and bucked against her. 

Harley slid a thigh between Ivy’s legs to give her some friction, while at the same time her lips trailed down Ivy’s chin and to her neck. She hummed “Mmm, green, so much green” against Ivy’s throat, and Ivy realized she wasn’t the only one completely overwhelmed by this. 

Harley’s mouth continued its descent, down Ivy’s throat to her collarbone, where she lightly nipped and then licked the cool green skin there. Her left hand continued working Ivy’s right nipple as her right hand moved to cup Ivy’s other breast from below. Ivy let out a whimper of frustration, and Harley shot her a mischievous grin and said “I know, baby.” Then at last, she sucked Ivy’s nipple into her hot, wet mouth, and Ivy almost came right then. 

Harley released the breast with a wet pop, then blew gently on it. Ivy felt it become impossibly hard. She began lapping rhythmically at Ivy’s nipple, matching the pace at which her hand was rolling the other one. 

Meanwhile, her free hand skimmed down and squeezed Ivy’s bare hip, then moved slowly around to the front. Pale fingers slid just below the edge of the dangling Batsuit, and Ivy couldn’t help herself as she threw back her head and rocked harder against Harley, silently begging her to go farther. 

Suddenly they heard a swooping sound and “Harley Quinn! Poison Iv—“ 

Ivy’s head snapped back down, her eyes shooting death rays at whoever dared to interrupt them. Harley whipped around and instinctively shielded Ivy’s half-naked body with her own. 

Batman stared back at them, and even though he wore the usual mask, they could both tell that he was genuinely shocked. “I—wh—” He gestured lamely behind him. “Got a report – Quinn and Ivy sighted on a rooftop – thought I’d handle it myself…” He trailed off. The two women just stared at him, breathing heavily. “So…I’ve investigated…and I’ll just be on my way now.” 

He turned, shook his head a tiny bit, grinned to himself – and he was gone. 

Harley slowly turned back to Ivy, and for once, Ivy was the first to burst out laughing at the look of utter disbelief on her face. Harley joined her, and they laughed until tears streamed out of their eyes.

“Well, the Bat sure knows how to kill a mood,” said Harley. “C’mon, Red, let’s get outta here.” 

Ivy stripped off her Batgirl costume the rest of the way. Harley went to the edge of the roof and peeked over. “There’s gotta be a store around here where we can grab you an outfit.” She turned around to see that Ivy had grown herself a leafy green bodysuit. Harley grinned. “God, I l—” She froze. 

Ivy, realizing what had just happened, saved her friend. “Come on, sweet pea.” She held out her hand. Harley took it, and Ivy grew them a vine to slide down together. 

Next chapter: Ivy overthinks things! The girls visit a little town called – Metropolis!


	6. I'm Poison, Remember?

Apparently, it took more than a PhD in botany to keep history from repeating itself. 

Ivy was mentally kicking herself for her rooftop escapade with Harley. She could list at least ten reasons it was a bad idea (Harley was fragile from her dealings with the Joker, Ivy was emotionally distant, it didn’t mean anything because it was in the heat of their adventure fighting Batgirl and Robin, they shouldn’t have been that reckless, they got caught by Batman of all people, it was distracting her from her research, she felt like she was betraying her plants by thinking about Harley more than them these days, she didn’t want any human attachments, she wanted to stop feeling like she needed this, Harley didn’t even seem embarrassed about the whole Batman thing, she was scared Harley would go back to the Joker…). Actually, was that eleven? She could have kept going, no problem. 

“Why does this keep happening?” she groaned. “All right, that’s it, Dr. Isley. No more canoodling with the clown. It’s time to focus on what really matters: my plants.” 

(She would never have admitted it, but that sounded hollow even to her. And a tiny secret part of her was hurt that Harley was able to compartmentalize, to pretend like nothing happened, to bounce from friends to intimacy to friends again. It must not have been the same for her.) 

Ivy was understandably distracted when Harley burst in later, excited about her new matchmaking schemes. In the span of about a minute, Harley had cooked up a new scheme to spread “love and larceny,” and it took Ivy a second to process what Harley was saying: “You and me – we gotta follow our hearts, Ivy, and get by any way we can!” 

Ivy snorted to herself a little at the thought of following her heart, or that Harley could possibly see her that way. So she was completely floored when Harley concluded with, “So it’s settled! You’re comin’ with me!” and didn’t have the energy to protest. 

Harley left to work on a “surprise,” and Ivy lost herself in thought again. She used the time to tend her plants – and to rebuild her walls. Walls that Harley seemed to have no trouble tearing down whenever she felt like it. 

A while later, there was a commotion outside, and Ivy went out, hoping for some teenage delinquents she could teach a lesson to and distract herself for a little while. Instead, she saw her friend (and, these days, unwelcome obsession) pulled up to the curb on an idling motorcycle. 

Harley grinned. “What do you think, Ivy? You like the Harley, or what?”

Ivy froze for a second, thinking she’d been found out. Then she realized: “The machine? It’s very…shiny.”

And then they got in an argument because Ivy had decided not to go with Harley, and honestly why couldn’t Harley see that it was the wrong thing for them to be spending this much time together? Those walls of Ivy’s were firmly in place as she said, “I like to stay in one place, Harley. I have roots here.”

When Harley tried to tempt her with promises of sunlight (ah, sweet photosynthesis!) Ivy flatly said, “No. Can’t.” 

Then she hid her face from her friend as Harley cut to the heart of it: “I thought we were friends, Ivy. I like you…admire you, even. Always wanted to be strong and independent like you. But I guess you’re so strong and independent…you don’t need friends.”

“Well,” thought Ivy, “She admires me. We’re friends. I guess that’s all this has been for her – a temporary distraction from the Joker. I guess I won’t be seeing her for a long time.” And she turned back to tending her babies. 

Of course, Harley was never that predictable. Not long after she left, she burst through the door (as usual), and Ivy was unable to hide how delighted she was. “Harley! I knew you’d come ba-” 

But Harley was just looking for the antidote to Joker’s toxin. Of course – it always came back to him. How foolish she’d been to let herself think for one second that Harley had chosen her over whatever misguided adventure she was cooking up. 

Ivy drew herself up to her full height and said, as frostily as she could muster, “I haven’t made that in some time, Harley. Is that the only reason you’re here? Even though you’re already immune?” 

Harley seemed oblivious to Ivy’s anger, rambling about her blood and bouncing out the door as quickly as she’d entered. And with her, the light left Ivy’s apartment. 

And Ivy cursed inwardly that she’d pushed her friend away again. 

Of course, later she learned the full story: how Harley had been trying to cure the two moon-crossed lovers affected by the Joker’s toxin, how she’d used her own blood to try to make a quick cure, and how the whole thing had blown up when the antivenom didn’t work as expected. 

They met on the roof – it was always rooftops with them – and Harley was uncharacteristically pensive, chastising herself a bit that things didn’t work out for the two…whatever they were. Ivy didn’t like seeing her Harley down. “So? You did more than I would have,” she said. 

But then Harley turned the tables, as she so often did. “Hey – you created that anti-toxin stuff I got in me, Ivy! You could’a made an antidote that worked tons better than mine!”

Ivy looked sadly off into the distance. The day was weighing her down – first, her incessant worrying over the feelings she was developing for Harley, then the fight they’d had over the anti-Joker serum, and now she was confronted with the fact that Harley would soon be leaving for who knew how long – in part because Ivy had intentionally pushed her away. The thought filled her with remorse. She quietly said, “I don’t do that, Harley. I don’t save people. I’m poison, remember?”

She had been trying to cheer Harley up, for crying out loud, and by the end of the conversation she was revealing far more than she intended about her feelings for her friend, and Harley was cheering Ivy up. That’s the way it had always been – she was the only person who could bring a smile to Ivy’s face. God, she was going to miss her, even though she didn’t deserve her. 

Harley interrupted her self-defeating thoughts, putting a hand on Ivy’s and saying, “Nah! You saved me – just a second ago! Lotsa other times, too!” 

This crumbled Ivy’s defenses, and she finally opened up a little. “You’re…different, Harley. You see things through.” She paused and took a deep breath, looking away from Harley because these things were too hard to say face to face. “With the Joker – even though he’s a complete waste of time – with those moon-crossed lovers tonight…you don’t cut and run. I’ve always admired that about you.”

She paused again – they were getting at the tender green heart of things now. “Most people aren’t like that. Give them half a chance, they’ll leave you high and dry. Not plants. Plants never walk away.”

Suddenly, she felt Harley’s arms around her, in a tight, haphazard side hug. Ivy could feel her warmth, smell her coconut lotion, and a familiar thrill shot through her. 

Harley said, “Is that what’s buggin’ you? You think I’d ever show my back to my best bud?” Ivy turned her head to the side, just slightly, not quite meeting Harley’s eyes, and nodded. 

Harley used a move that was usually Ivy’s, putting a finger under her chin and tilting her head until their eyes finally met. Her voice was uncharacteristically low as she said, “I don’t care if half the country’s out to cap me, Ivy – you want me to stay, I’m stayin’!”

Well, that changed things. If Harley would choose their stationary existence together over her newest adventure, why shouldn’t Ivy do the equivalent for her? All those years of being alone, and now there was finally someone in her life who made her…happy. She decided right then that the two of them would go to Metropolis. 

Now the closeness was getting to Ivy. Harley’s arms were still wrapped tightly around her, and their noses were almost touching. It would be the easiest thing in the world to claim her lips, to show her once and for all the intensity of Ivy’s feelings. 

Then Ivy’s brain kicked in, and she remembered her eleven (fourteen? twenty-seven?) reasons why they couldn’t truly be together, settling for returning Harley’s hug. 

But screw it – they were going to Metropolis! 

Next chapter: Metropolis! And one member of our diabolical duo dies. For real.


	7. You're Smilin', Ivy!

“Harleeee--!” screamed Ivy. 

Well, maybe it wasn’t exactly how she’d pictured screaming Harley’s name. But here they were, tearing around Metropolis on a motorcycle, her arms wrapped around Harley’s tight abs and the engine thrumming through her core. So the circumstances were not altogether unpleasant. 

Only a few minutes after they arrived, Ivy saw Central Park – and was instantly smitten. She distractedly abandoned Harley, who was trying to read their map, and swung down into the park on a vine. This was a place where she could be happy, even peaceful…

…until a thorn in her side showed up and put an end to Ivy’s idyllic musings. Her bestie appeared just in time to beat on Thorn for a while, until Ivy ended matters with the help of her darling vines. She would have ended Thorn, too, if Harley hadn’t intervened, and instead, they left her dangling by some vines from a bronze statue of Superman. 

It was perfect – a little exhilarating hand-to-hand combat, getting to humiliate Thorn as a bonus, and the promise of some restorative green time. Ivy’s thoughts must have shown on her face, because Harley said in surprise, “You’re smilin’, Ivy!” 

They chatted as first Harley, then Ivy got astride the motorcycle, and Ivy slid her arms around Harley’s waist once more, shivering a little as her chest pressed against Harley’s back. 

Right after they took off again, the SCU cops came after them. Harley, grinning and gutsy, full of mania and mayhem as always, actually drove the bike off of an overpass, but Ivy knew her girl and was already growing a cushion of vines to catch them on the way down. They hitched a ride on top of a train to complete their great escape, and then Ivy spotted a penthouse that looked like it had good light and the girls decided to hole up there during their sojourn in Metropolis. 

The previous tenant abruptly offed herself – an odd way to celebrate move-in day, but it did little to dampen their spirits. Harley found that most of the late “Dixie Cup’s” clothes fit her, while Ivy donned a robe that was sinfully skimpy on her, showing off almost as much of her generous assets as her usual leafy bodysuit. 

They helped themselves to a hefty glass of wine each, sat on the couch and giggled for a little while (well, Harley giggled – Ivy occasionally cracked a smile), but they were exhausted from the day’s adventures. Ivy normally found television a waste of time, but she was feeling mellow tonight and flipped channels while Harley’s head gradually drooped until it was resting on Ivy’s shoulder. 

Ivy gently moved so Harley was lying on the couch, then turned off the TV and covered her friend in a blanket she found on a chair. She kissed Harley on the cheek, then watched her sleep for a minute – her animated face never looked this peaceful while she was awake, and if Ivy could have seen her own face she would have been surprised at the tenderness in her eyes as she knelt next to the couch. 

Ivy was nothing if not practical, though, and after her brief stint of Harley-gazing, she gathered up their wine glasses and washed them, started tending to a neglected and pathetic garden box near the window, and as Harley slept, she cut down the previous tenant’s body and moved it from the master bedroom to the balcony. She found fresh sheets in the linen closet and remade the bed.

Then she gathered Harley up in her arms (“Ooh, Red, you know how to sweep a girl off her feet!” Harley mumbled against her neck, sending shivers down Ivy’s spine and bringing yet another grin to her face) and tucked her into bed. 

She paused for a minute, there, watching Harley snuggle down into the clean sheets. 

Then she got into bed with her, snuggling up behind the smaller woman. Ivy put an arm around Harley’s waist and fell asleep with her face nuzzled against the back of Harley’s neck. 

When she woke up the next morning, Ivy sat up and stretched, admiring how the morning sun made Harley’s hair shine. Then she shook her head and went back to tending her plants. 

Not surprisingly, the excitement of the previous day had opposing effects on the two friends. Ivy was in a reflective mood. She wanted to relax at “home,” raising her plant babies (and, despite her best efforts, continuing to mull over her developing feelings toward Harley).   
Harley, on the other hand, seemed amped, even more than usual. Ivy could tell that she was aching to see the city, maybe cause some chaos. 

She came bouncing out of the bedroom dressed in southern-belle getup: a yellow polo and lavender skirt, glasses and a headband. Ivy was engrossed in watching her baby plants start to poke their tender heads through the dirt, and she refused to put on the “clothes” Harley offered (a sweatsuit, of all things), leaving her friend to explore the city on her own. 

Ivy enjoyed a quiet day alone with her plants – although, if she were being completely honest, it was a little too quiet. Later that evening, Harley burst through the door, shedding her polo and skirt as she chattered about running into Jimmy Olsen, her new job at the Daily Planet (obtained with the help of some of Ivy’s pheromone spray that Harley always kept on her), and her plans to help mend the lovelorn souls in Metropolis. 

She emerged a minute later in her full Harley Quinn getup, ready to hit the town. Ivy was lost in thought, tending to her plants and looking out the window. Harley had to convince her with the promise of a topiary just to get her to leave the penthouse: “Don’t bring me down, gal-pal!” 

The two of them ransacked a greenhouse, stole a car, and had a joyride all over Metropolis. It felt like some of their better nights back in Gotham. Ivy, in a rare moment of pure joy, leaned her head back and said, “It doesn’t get much better than this.” 

Back at the penthouse, the sun was coming up as they finished unloading the goods, including dozens of bags of fertilizer, so that Ivy could start transforming the space to her heart’s content. 

Once again, they were both wiped out. Ivy changed into a minuscule strapless dress and invited Harley to join her on the balcony for a nap in the sun, but apparently Harley’s willpower was stronger than hers because she opted to grab a nap upstairs in the bedroom. 

The next several days passed in a happy blur. Ivy grew her plants by day while Harley wrote her column at the Planet, and the two of them hit the town at night. Occasionally they partook in their nighttime heists separately – in Ivy’s case, usually to steal more plants, while Harley was up to god knows what (helping lonely people find love in the most misguided ways possible, most likely). 

Ivy flourished under their new routine. It felt downright…domestic. She kept wearing the former occupant’s clothes, telling herself it was because she didn’t feel like stealing or growing new ones, when it might have been because she wanted Harley to notice. 

One evening, after a successful night of thievery, she knotted a tiny button-down just below her breasts, showing off her tight green abs, and pulled on the most petite pair of jean shorts, which showed the world (okay, just Harley) her toned thighs. 

Harley came home later than Ivy, exhausted from some escapade that apparently involved breaking up a couple. (Ivy didn’t get too invested in the details of these insignificant human romances.) 

She seemed preoccupied, collapsing on the ground, but eventually she shrugged it off and said, “Whatever don’t kill me makes me stronger, right? So after tonight I don’t think there’s a hurtin’ heart in Metropolis I can’t help!” 

Then she looked up at Ivy, about to ask more about how her night went, and Ivy happened to be flipping her long red hair right then. Harley’s jaw literally dropped. “Hot damn, Red! W-what’s with the Daisy Dukes? And the girls look like they’re about to make a break for it!” 

Ivy smiled. She’d always found her friend’s bluntness refreshing, even amusing. 

Then Ivy noticed that Harley’s eyes were still roaming up and down her long green body. Ivy’s nostrils flared slightly as her breathing deepened in anticipation of what was to come, and her smile turned feral. All she had to do was tilt her head to the side and beckon Harley with the crook of one finger, and Harley jumped up from her position on the floor and bounded over. 

She paused as she reached Ivy, hesitating for once in her life. Harley reached her hands tentatively up to Ivy’s shoulders, then trailed them gently down and laced their fingers together. She took one step closer, and Ivy swore she could feel the heat radiating between their bodies. 

Harley was practically eye-level with Ivy’s chest, and she gulped. Then she raised her eyes to meet Ivy’s gaze and said, in a husky voice, “Red…Ivy…tell me what you want.” 

In that moment, Ivy saw her own vulnerability reflected back at her. The uncertainty, the desire – and beneath it all, their undeniable connection. They’d come so far from Arkham, somehow even farther from that day when Ivy found Harley broken and betrayed in the park. 

And she knew then what she’d been trying to hide from herself for so long: she had fallen deeply, irrevocably, madly in love with her best friend. 

Well, shit.

Ivy swallowed hard and leaned forward so their noses were touching. She slid her hands apart from Harley’s and slowly encircled her waist as she whispered, “All of you, Harley…Harleen…Dr. Quinzel. I want all of you.” 

Then she tilted her head and – so gently at first – their lips met. Harley’s lips were soft against her own, her skin unbelievably smooth. There was no comparison to the scratchy males she’d seduced for sport over the years. It was a different feeling in every way. 

Ivy captured Harley’s bottom lip between her own and gently sucked on it. She vaguely remembered a time when Harley had done this to her, and how it had driven her wild, and the soft moan she got in return told her that it was working. 

Encouraged, Ivy ran her tongue across Harley’s bottom lip, craving more. Harley’s hands slid up Ivy’s back and twined in her hair, and she pulled Ivy impossibly closer as her lips parted to allow Ivy’s tongue to explore. Their tongues met for the first time (could that be right?), and Ivy felt a jolt shoot straight between her legs. 

Harley tasted like sweetness and sin, cotton candy and tequila, and something else that was indescribably…Harley. Her hands fisted even harder in Ivy’s hair, but Ivy was controlling the pace this time. Their previous encounters had been quick and desperate, chaotic like Harley herself. 

This time, it was Ivy’s turn. 

Ivy moved her hands to Harley’s hips and steered her until the other woman’s back was against the wall. They were both breathless by now, unable to stand it when their lips came apart for even a second. Ivy wanted to taste Harley’s skin and couldn’t get to her neck. She muttered “Damn jester suit,” frustrated, which made Harley chuckle. 

“You need a hand, Red?” she said in that lower voice that turned Ivy’s insides to mush, as she slipped her hands down to cup Ivy’s ass and pulled her even closer, sliding a leg between Ivy’s. 

Ivy gasped at the extra contact. But she was determined to set the tempo this time, and she reached back, grabbed Harley’s hands, and lifted them over her head against the wall. “Stay.” Then she tugged off Harley’s jester hat, which exposed her blonde hair and (finally) her neck. 

Ivy threw the hat behind her, then looked back at Harley, hungrily. She smoothed a stray lock of hair behind Harley’s ear, then followed her fingertips with her mouth, laying wet kisses below Harley’s ear and down her neck, alternating licks and sucks from her hungry tongue with gentle nips from her teeth. 

Harley was rocking against Ivy by this point, groaning in frustration. She obviously needed more. Suddenly, Ivy took advantage of the difference in their build to pick Harley up by the waist, never relenting her assault on Harley’s neck. Taken by surprise, Harley instinctively wrapped her legs around Ivy’s waist and her arms around Ivy’s neck. 

For a second, Ivy questioned her latest move. In this position, she didn’t have much room to maneuver, and she couldn’t get Harley’s clothes off, and she couldn’t kiss down her chest like she wanted to. But then Harley began to move against her, and Ivy felt for the first time how intimately they were pressed together, her legs between Harley’s and Harley’s legs gripping her hips like a lifeline. 

God, she’d never been this wet in her life. She felt every thrust of Harley’s hips against her most sensitive area, felt spandex slip and slide against the ridiculously tiny shorts she’d used to seduce Harley, and from the way Harley was moaning, the button of those shorts was hitting her in just the right spot too. They were both so overcome that they weren’t even kissing anymore, just panting and moving against each other.

At some point, Harley’s hands snuck between them and nimbly untied Ivy’s shirt, letting her breasts spill free. Harley’s fingers brushed against Ivy’s nipples, multiplying the sensation of their frantic thrusting until Ivy gasped, “Oh god, Harl, I’m so close!” 

Her hips moved even more frantically against Harley’s as Harley looked into her eyes and gave a small nod – she was close too, but couldn’t even speak. 

Every cell in Ivy’s body seemed to be collected in the tiny spot where Harley rubbed against her. She felt herself getting impossibly wetter, and the pressure built as she rubbed against Harley’s spandex suit faster and faster, until she felt Harley shudder against her and her nails clawed their way down Ivy’s back and her legs twitched in Ivy’s hands and she moaned “Oh Jesus, Ivy! Fuck!”

That pushed Ivy over the edge, and as she felt the first spasm of her orgasm, she held tight to Harley, keeping them both upright – and then she was exploding, and falling, and she heard someone screaming, “Harleeee--!” and dimly realized it was herself.

Then they were on the floor, in a tangle of bodysuit and green breasts and red hair spilling everywhere, and oh god they never even took Harley’s mask off, and Ivy had never felt so sated, so…content in her entire life. 

When she started to chuckle, Harley struggled to raise her head and look at her with a quizzical grin. “Want to share the joke with the rest of the class, Ms. Isley?” 

Ivy was still breathless but managed to gasp out, “I’m glad…we were able to take it slow…our first time!” 

Then Harley was laughing too, and her laugh was the most wonderful sound Ivy had ever heard, and she could have died right then and been perfectly content. 

But she didn’t die.

Harley did. 

Next chapter: Harley dies! (I know I said it would be in this chapter, but then I got carried away with…other stuff.)


	8. Anyone Else

Ivy felt the rays of the late morning sun on her face, and they both warmed and energized her. She lay there on her back and allowed herself to feel content for a moment, noticing the additional warmth where Harley’s leg was sprawled across hers as she lay face down on the bed, her arm flung over Ivy’s chest. 

Then Ivy realized that “content” wasn’t even a strong enough word.

This was paradise. 

She fluidly slipped out from under Harley and kneeled over her back, then leaned down and brushed blonde hair aside to kiss the back of Harley’s neck while her hands roamed down her sides. Harley stirred and moaned a little, still mostly asleep. 

When Ivy’s hands slipped underneath her to massage her breasts, though, she woke up in a hurry. “Mmm – Red – nice way to wake up.” 

Suddenly, Harley raised her head, panicked. “Where’s the clock? What time is it?” 

Ivy returned her lips to Harley’s neck and murmured, “Maybe 10:30? But don’t worry about that…why don’t you stay with me today and we’ll make a day of it. I still haven’t figured out where you keep that pop gun of yours…” 

Before she had even finished, Harley had somehow wriggled out from under her and jumped to her feet. “Ivy! I’m going to be like three hours late for work! Where are my Holly clothes…” She rummaged under the bed and through drawers, throwing clothes out at random, until she managed to put an outfit together. She threw on her clothes and slipped on a pair of shoes, bouncing around the room and muttering “Glasses…glasses.” 

Then she grabbed the glasses from her bedside table, kissed Ivy on the cheek, and was out the door with a “Bye, Ives!” 

All of that had happened so quickly that Ivy couldn’t even process it, respond to it, argue against it, convince Harley to stay in bed with her all day, anything. She flopped back on the bed and sighed as her plans for the day went out the window. 

Later that afternoon, Ivy was tending to her Dionaea muscipula graft when Harley burst back in, excitedly yammering about jetpacks and Jimmy Olsen or something, and changing into her Harley suit. 

Ivy was still feeling frosty. If she were being honest with herself, it was because what happened last night didn’t seem to matter to Harley. Nothing seemed to matter to her. She just bounced through life, doing whatever felt right at the time, and damn the consequences. It was the opposite of how Ivy led her carefully ordered life, and she was feeling a little resentful at the moment. 

As usual, she used her plants as an excuse not to leave the penthouse. She expected more of an objection, but Harley just said, “Oh, well—your loss! See you later, pollinator!” and exited as quickly as she’d come in, her Harley suit now hidden under her work clothes. 

Ivy angrily poked around in the dirt for a while, then said “Oh, screw it” and headed out the door to meet her girl at S.T.A.R. Labs. 

She found Harley at the door to the lab, snuck up on her and clapped a hand over her mouth from behind, whispering in her ear, “You’re an easy one to sneak up on, girl. You should watch your back.” 

Harley was delighted to see her, pulling Ivy into a big hug. Ivy said, “Well…the graft was stronger than I thought.” (It wasn’t lost on her that she was talking about more than just the Dionaea muscipula.) 

The two girls were back in action, and Ivy easily trapped the lab worker and Jimmy Olsen with vines. Thorn tried to crash the party, but Harley was able to subdue her with an electrified yo-yo. She asked Ivy to get Thorn back to the apartment, but for some reason Harley wanted to stay there longer with Jimmy. 

She had no trouble getting Thorn back to the penthouse and entangling her in vines, but she started to get worried (and a little disappointed) when Harley didn’t show for hours. She tended to her plants, contemplated beating on Thorn to relieve some tension, and finally Harley flew up to the balcony on a jetpack. 

Ivy could have been impressed by the jetpack. She could have told Harley how much she was craving time with her. 

Instead, she put her hands on her jean-short-clad hips and said, “Well, someone’s in a good mood. I got back hours ago. What took you?” 

But of course Harley wasn’t offended, and she excitedly asked after their “guest.” Their shared enthusiasm for hurting Thorn melted Ivy somewhat, and after the prisoner raged a bit, Ivy said, “I’d say she has issues. What do you think, Dr. Quinzel?” 

Harley, mock-pensive, said, “Well, as a trained and formerly licensed psychiatrist, I know there’s just one form of therapy for a case like this…” and punched Thorn full in the face. (Just when Ivy thought she couldn’t love that girl any more….)

Not long afterward, their apartment was crowded with uninvited visitors: first Bizarro, and then Jimmy Olsen. Unfortunately, this meant Ivy had to see Harley smooch Jimmy Olsen’s freckled face while Ivy and Bizarro hid in the foliage. Revolting. 

(But on the plus side, Harley changed into a translucent negligee while she chased Jimmy around the apartment, so it wasn’t all bad.)

Ivy tried to hide her disappointment when Harley introduced her as her “roommate” – it was absurd how the offhanded comment hurt her. She was fully aware that she was pouting, and took it out on Jimmy Olsen for a minute before stalking off into the plants…

…where she came upon an even better target for her latent rage: Thorn. Ivy was just setting in for a pleasurable evening of torture when that idiot Bizarro interrupted to tell her (in his infuriating double-speak) that Harley was headed to Lexcorp for god-knows-what absurd reason. 

Ivy threw up her hands and stormed out, unleashing some of her pent-up anger: “This is crazy! No – this double-talk is typical of Harley! I’ll have to see what she wants myself!” 

And then she made what would be a fatal error: she told Bizarro not to set Thorn free. 

Instead of showing up at Lexcorp, though, Ivy stalked around the city, stewing about Harley. “Always off on a fool’s errand! Nothing matters to her, not even last night! Everything was perfect this morning, and then she got involved with this stupid jetpack and that idiot Jimmy Olsen and that brute Bizarro!” 

Eventually, she just went back to the penthouse, sank down to her knees on the floor, and grew herself a new bodysuit – even skimpier than her usual ones. She tried to talk herself up: “Ivy, you’re a brilliant PhD and a master criminal. Stop obsessing about your bestie. This is ridiculous.” 

But as she finished growing the outfit, she started again, saying, “Ah! Nothing like growing a new outfit to make a girl feel…no better than before.” She sighed. “Why does Harley always run off on some fool’s errand when she could stay here with me – in paradise?” 

This situation was unfamiliar, uncomfortable, and unacceptable. “Anyone else…anyone else would do exactly what I wanted. I’d have them wrapped around my finger.”

Then she pictured Harley’s smiling face, thought about how she felt when they were together, and admitted, “But Harley isn’t like anyone else…”

Ivy needed an outlet. Then she remembered Thorn. “Well, no use torturing myself – not when I have another person handy!” 

As she stalked through the foliage to let her rage out on Thorn, she saw the empty chair, heard Thorn’s voice mocking her – and instead of thinking back to her parting shot to Bizarro, her mind defaulted to blaming Harley. “This…this is Harley’s fault! Harley’s fault for bringing Thorn here! Harley’s fault for leaving just when things started going to—”

Thorn interrupted then, taunting her. She hit Ivy on the head, and everything went black. 

And then everything got worse.

So much worse. 

“…Ivy?” A shadow leaned over her, blocking the light. At first, blinking unconsciousness away, Ivy thought it was Bizarro. As she slowly sat up, she thought she must be hallucinating – because surely Superman wasn’t squatting there among her plants, looking at her in concern. 

Ivy shook her head slightly to clear her mind and instantly regretted it. Thorn had really walloped her. But when she looked back, Superman was still there. 

Ivy sighed. “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it. And if you’re here to beat it out of me, you’re too late.” She pulled herself up so she was sitting – she didn’t quite have it in her to stand, but she didn’t want to talk to Superman while lying on the ground. 

Superman regarded her gravely. “Ivy – Ms. Isley –” 

“It’s Doctor!” snapped Ivy. She didn’t have to tolerate this home invasion, even from the Kryptonian. 

Superman knelt in front of her, so close she could have touched him. “It’s about your friend.”

“Harley? What’s the fool gotten herself into this time? Oh, wait – is this about the jetpack? I knew that wouldn’t end well.” 

The world’s greatest superhero seemed to be struggling for words. Finally, he said (more gently than Ivy would have imagined he could): “Dr. Isley, your friend Harley Quinn is dead.” 

Next chapter: She deals with the news in the most Ivy way possible, in: The Five Stages of Ivy!


	9. The Five Stages of Ivy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little different...I always wanted to see in the comics how Ivy would react to Harley's death, but I couldn't find that anywhere.  
> So I imagined how it might play out. See what you think. Is it how you pictured it?
> 
> Also, Ivy finds support from some unlikely sources.

Stage 1: Denial  
Ivy stared at Superman for a minute, then stammered, “I-I’m sorry, I must have heard you wrong. Did you just say that Harley is…dead?”

Superman nodded, somber. 

Ivy laughed nervously. “No, that’s not right. I just saw her…well, I was unconscious for a little while, but still.”

Superman just watched her calmly. 

Now Ivy raised her voice a little. “You don’t understand. She’s at Lexcorp, something to do with jetpacks or Bizarro or…something. I was going to meet her there! She’s probably on her way home right now.” 

As he stood up and moved away to look out the window, Superman said, “Ivy…Batman told me how…close the two of you were. So when it happened, I wanted to do you the courtesy of telling you in person.” 

Ivy scrambled to her feet, her usual fluid grace escaping her due to both the news she was still trying to process and the bump on the head. She leaned against a tree and looked at the ground, putting a hand to her forehead. She said, more to herself than to Superman, “But…that can’t be right. We just started whatever this is. That wouldn’t be fair. That wouldn’t be right. That can’t be right.”

Suddenly, she whirled to face Superman, green eyes blazing. “YOU! This is some kind of Justice League plot!” 

It was a shocking transition, and Superman actually stumbled back a step. He held up a hand. “Dr. Isley, I assure you I come here in good faith.” 

Ivy advanced slowly, holding her arms at her sides, palms facing forward. “Do you expect me to believe that the second I found happiness, the second I knew what I wanted in this world, it all exploded?! And that you and your superhero friends had nothing to do with it??” 

The floor began to rumble beneath them. Behind and all around Ivy, shapes were twisting. It looked as though the entire apartment were alive: a tsunami of violent plant life, a gathering storm of flora. 

The Man of Steel frowned. “Ivy – you don’t want to do this.” 

She tilted her head to one side, and when she spoke in a cold and disdainful voice, it was as though every trace of humanity had left her: “Don’t tell me what I want to do, meat.” 

Poison Ivy lifted her hands out to the sides, palms up, as if she were gathering her power. Then she suddenly thrust them forward, clasping them together in front of her body. 

The penthouse exploded outward. 

Superman was struck hard in the abdomen by a giant mass of vines and trees, which propelled him out into the Metropolis sky. Anyone else would have been impaled. 

Ivy, all barely controlled fury and pain and rage, slowly rose from the wreckage of the penthouse on her own walkway of vines. Superman flew up and faced her. “Ivy! Don’t—”

“Show me her body.”

“What?”

“If Harley is dead, as you claim, then take me to her body.”

Superman looked resigned. “There was…an explosion. There was no body to recover.”

Just a hint of pain flashed across Ivy’s face at that. But then she looked up, eyes blazing once more. “Then let’s finish this.” 

The battle ended quickly. Ivy and her plants fought bravely, but they were no match for Superman. And just before Ivy passed out from the pain and the exhaustion and her injuries, she saw Harley’s face in her mind, and she never wanted to wake up. 

Thus it turned out that on Ivy, denial looked a whole lot like…

Stage 2: Anger  
The trip back to Gotham wasn’t gentle, but Ivy was unconscious for most of it. 

She half awoke when Superman brought her to SCU headquarters and put her down on a bench. Ivy was vaguely aware that the police were actually processing her like a common criminal, but she had no energy left to fight. She passed out again and didn’t wake up until the prisoner transport taking her to Arkham hit a pothole and jolted her awake. 

She looked around apathetically, guessing what the situation was despite her weakened mental and physical state. Then she let her head fall back down and slept. 

They unloaded her at Arkham and got her into a cell without incident. Ivy was vaguely aware of the guards’ looks of wary surprise – she was being uncharacteristically cooperative. 

After the usual decontamination and such, they put her in a cell. And in her depleted state, it took Ivy a few minutes to realize that she was back in her old cell.

Home sweet home. 

Ivy leaned her head against the wall of her cell. She could feel the shock of Superman’s visit and unwelcome news dissipating. With some distance from the situation, it was now clear to her that in all likelihood, Harley really was dead. 

As the shock and denial faded, it was replaced with a much more familiar emotion for Poison Ivy: anger. 

It bubbled up unbidden, seemingly from the deepest part of her soul. At first, it was directed outward at easy targets: those fools in Metropolis, Jimmy Olsen and Bizarro and Superman and whoever gave Harley that idiotic job at the Daily Planet. 

It was their fault this had happened! If they’d never gone to Metropolis, if the Planet hadn’t hired Harley, she wouldn’t have indulged that crazy notion to become the Cupid of Crime. She wouldn’t have heard about the damn jetpack, she would never have gotten mixed up with Bizarro, she would be here with Ivy right now. 

Someone should have stopped her. From any of it, from all of it. They were all useless. Less than nothing.

But wait – it was Harley’s idea to go to Metropolis in the first place. Harley who could never be content, who wouldn’t stay in one place, who just had to leave Gotham City when all along, Ivy told her to stay. 

And then she had to interfere in the love lives of worthless strangers when she could have been at home, in paradise, with Ivy. 

And of course, she had to steal a jetpack. Because WHY NOT. 

And why was Ivy even surprised, of course it ended up this way, Harley always did whatever she wanted, bounced in and out of Ivy’s life and her heart like none of it MATTERED, and damn her to hell anyway! 

Ivy felt a sudden pain in her hand and realized that she’d punched the concrete wall of her cell without even realizing it. 

And it felt good. The pain felt good, the rage felt good. It felt right. The rage focused her, gave her purpose. 

What had she been thinking, playing housewife with Harley in Metropolis? Poison Ivy was her true self. Poison Ivy didn’t need the love of some insignificant human. She was more powerful without her. She was a goddamn supervillain. 

Ivy looked at the wall. Her fist hadn’t even made a dent. She needed some power – plants, poison, something to make her feel whole again. 

And as she stared at the wall, a memory surfaced, unbidden. 

Back when this was Ivy’s cell, for a while, Harley had been in the cell right next door, just on the other side of that wall. They didn’t get to see each other face to face like when Harley was Ivy’s therapist, but they used to talk, as easily as if they’d known each other forever. Sometimes those conversations were the only thing that kept her alive in that hell. 

The two of them behaved themselves for a long stretch once, and a sympathetic guard actually let them spend time locked together in one cell. Ivy would gently brush Harley’s hair, and Harley always made her laugh. 

God, she could still remember how Harley’s silky hair felt as she brushed it, so much smoother than Ivy’s own tangly locks. She used to graze her fingertips against Harley’s ear, just to see her shiver. Ivy always pretended it was an accident. 

Harley once told her, shyly, that Ivy was the only person who ever made her feel safe. Ivy’s face must have shown her disbelief, because Harley burst out laughing and then changed the subject – but looking back now, given her history with the Joker, Ivy knew she’d meant every word.

Safe.

And then Ivy realized that all the rage she’d been feeling earlier, blaming Harley and the others, was just an excuse not to blame herself. 

She was Harley’s best friend. The one who should have kept her safe – from exploding jetpacks, from the world, from her own silly notions about what was important in life. And she didn’t. And it got Harley killed. 

Ivy looked up, green eyes blazing. She knew what she had to do. 

And man, was she going to hate it. 

Stage 3: Bargaining  
“That…is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

Ivy struggled (and failed) to retain her composure. Through gritted teeth, she said, “I realize it’s a strange request. But do you honestly think I’d come here – come to you – if I had any other options at all?” 

Zatanna looked at her coolly, trying and failing to conceal a sneer. “You think I would use my magic to bring people back from the dead?” 

Ivy said, “I thought you were one of the most powerful magicians alive.” Then she smirked and said, “Maybe I should go look John Constantine up instead? I’m sure he could be more easily…persuaded.” 

“Ivy!” Zatanna spat out. “I didn’t say I couldn’t do it – I said I wouldn’t. That’s dark magic, darker even than the forces I wield.” She took a step closer to Ivy. “And why are you so hell-bent on bringing back that ridiculous clown? Why should she, of all people, get a free pass?” 

Instead of grabbing Zatanna by the throat, Ivy simply deflated. She sat down on a nearby bench – the two had agreed to meet on more or less neutral territory, out in the open in Gotham. She looked up at the other woman and said, “I…I loved her.”

Zatanna looked as surprised as Ivy felt. “Oh. That explains it somewhat, then. I knew you two were partners in crime, but I didn’t realize…” She sat down next to her on the bench. “I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Ivy chuckled bitterly. “I don’t know what I was thinking, coming here. I would have given you anything – my soul, my life, I don’t care – if you could have brought her back. But you’re right. This was stupid.” She turned to Zatanna. “If it makes you feel any better, this was my third desperate stop. I’ve already ruled out alternate realities and time travel.” 

They both smiled, hesitantly, then sat in silence for a moment. Zatanna said, “I know what it’s like…to lose someone close to you. I really am sorry. If you ever need anything…” 

Ivy nodded, then stood up and walked away alone. 

Stage 4: Depression  
Well, that was it then. 

Ivy stood at the entrance to Robinson Park, so often her haven in this cruel manmade city. 

Now it would be her tomb. 

She trailed a green hand along the metal bars of the entryway and stepped inside. Ivy wandered aimlessly, exploring the familiar paths and gentle hills. The green was soothing, but not enough to take away her pain. 

She ventured further from the path, into a little-accessed corner of the garden where a birch tree stood surrounded by several bushes.

Ivy lay down at the base of the tree. 

And that was it. She just lay there. She lay there for days (or was it weeks? months?) as nature took its course. The grass grew high around her, and the surrounding plants claimed her, so that even the nosiest of parkgoers would have seen nothing more than a flash of red hair. 

She waited to die. 

But that didn’t happen.

The very plants that she had tended so lovingly in the past now returned the favor, sustaining and nourishing Ivy even when she was beyond all hope. Her skin, organs, cells would dry out for days, only to be rejuvenated as the first rain drops fell. The foliage that covered her still let in the sun, and her body continued to function. 

But Ivy just lay there. She was in a fog, neither alive nor dead. She didn’t care what happened to her. Nature could claim her for its own. 

Until one day: “Poison Ivy?! What the hell is wrong with you??” 

Stage 5: Acceptance  
Ivy opened her eyes with extreme difficulty. No one had stumbled upon her as she lay there, and she had only heard voices distantly. The sun scorched her eyes, and as she shut them she mumbled, “Catwoman? What are you—?”

Selina Kyle stood above her, scrunching her face into a frown. “Seriously – what is wrong with you? Who did this to you?” 

Ivy croaked, “Did it to myself.” 

If Selina was expecting an answer, that wasn’t it. She paused for a moment, confused. “Wait – are you saying you just came here – to die?”

Ivy nodded. 

“But – wait, is this because of what happened to your gal pal? Shit, Ivy, Batman told me about that. I’m sorry.”

Ivy nodded. 

Selina looked around, then said, “Well, that’s enough. Your friend’s dead, and that sucks. But you’re not, so it’s time to suck it up and join the land of the living.” She started clearing away the grass and plants covering Ivy, slashing at them with her claws when they were uncooperative. 

Ivy just lay there. 

When Selina was finished, she looked down at the redhead. “God, Ivy…you’re a mess, aren’t you?” She knelt down beside her and (with some difficulty) tugged her up into a sitting position. She tipped Ivy’s chin up so they were face to face. “You are coming with me, girl.” 

Luckily, Selina was driving a car that night, so she loaded Ivy into the passenger seat and buckled her in. “Should have put her in the trunk,” she muttered. “She’s going to ruin the upholstery.” She sighed. “Guess I’ll just have to steal another one tomorrow.”

Ivy didn’t say a word the whole way back to Selina’s mansion, didn’t even look out the window. She just slumped there with her hands in her lap, leaning her head against the door. 

When they got back to Selina’s current digs, she went around to the passenger side and helped Ivy out. They struggled up the front walk, and Selina fumbled with the keys as she tried to keep Ivy upright. “Could you help a sister out a little here? Carry some of your own weight? …Guess not,” she grumbled. 

Finally, they made it inside. Selina shut the front door, squared her shoulders, and half-shoved, half-carried Ivy as they made the long climb up the master staircase to the bathroom. 

Ivy just stood there as Selina filled the tub with scalding water. 

Then Selina turned to her and took her by the shoulders. Ivy actually met her eyes briefly before looking away, surprised at the human contact. “Look. You’re in rough shape. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but you can hang here with me for a little while until you’re back on your feet.”

She walked to the door, then turned back to Ivy. “I’m going to go figure out what to do with you. And you are going to get in that tub and get yourself clean. You smell like a compost heap.”

As she shut the door, she heard a faint voice say, “Compost…doesn’t stink.” And Selina allowed herself a small smile. 

Ivy stayed with Selina for two weeks. She spent as much time in the sun as possible, and at night the two of them sat in front of the fire unless Selina had a heist. 

Ivy found it strangely restorative to have human company again. She didn’t think she’d ever return to the world of humans, not if…Harley wasn’t in it. But this felt natural. It wasn’t the same as with Harley, nothing would ever be the same again, but it was okay in its own way. 

It wasn’t all pretty: Ivy was snappish and reverted to her aura of cool disdain even more easily than usual, and she often got on Selina’s last nerve. But eventually, she decided it was time to live again, or at least to get her life back to some semblance of how it was before. 

When Ivy told Selina she’d be moving out, she thought she saw a small sad look flash across Selina’s face. But Selina recovered quickly, saying “Well, it’s about time.” She actually looked like she was about to hug Ivy, but that would have been too uncomfortable for both of them, so Selina checked the movement.

And Ivy moved out. She found a small place where she could raise plants, and she threw herself into her work more than ever before, developing new strains of poison and creating new hybrid species of plants. She seduced men for sport if she needed supplies or access, but there was no joy in it. 

She wasn’t really living, but at least she was alive.


	10. Calm Down. We Can Take This Much.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another one that I couldn't find written in the DC-verse, so I decided to take a shot at it.
> 
> Ivy and Harley's reunion after, you know...that whole being-in-hell thing.

Since Harley’s jetpack accident and untimely death, Ivy had slowly rebuilt something resembling her former life. She continued her botanical research, convinced willing suitors to donate what she needed to live comfortably, and did the occasional job with Catwoman for sport. 

On one such excursion, she helped the cat get revenge on Hush, a Batman impostor, and was paid handsomely. Getting money had never been an issue for her, though, and she donated it all to a rainforest fund (she never could remember which one). 

She also crossed paths with the Riddler, Edward Nygma, several times. Ivy had to admit, the strange man intrigued her. He seemed to consider himself her intellectual equal, or even superior, which she found laughable. And he insisted on leaving those damn clues at every crime scene. Ivy preferred to avoid games – even more these days, since they reminded her of…well, there was no need to dwell on that. 

Ultimately, the Riddler interested her enough that Ivy “persuaded” him to let her move into his apartment. They lived platonically, of course. Serious relationships had never interested her before Harley, and since the incident she had successfully built those walls around her heart once more. 

One day, Ivy was gathering specimens in a distant corner of Robinson Park. Actually, it was the same one where she’d entombed herself during her depression – all those weeks (or months) of melding with Ivy’s body had led to some unique plant species in the area, and they were at the heart of one of her hybrid studies. 

Ivy was kneeling down, gently scraping the dirt away from a particularly delicate specimen’s root system, when she heard a voice say “Hey, Red.”

Instantly, Ivy’s body had a million reactions at once: her heart started beating five times faster, she questioned her sanity, she felt hopeful for the first time in months, the blood rushed to her cheeks and her heart and several other key places, gentle tendrils stood up on the back of her neck…and if she’d cared about anything else in that moment, she might have taken the time to catalogue each one with mild interest. 

But instead, hardly daring to breathe or to hope too greatly, she stood up, brushed the dirt from her hands, and turned around to see…

Harley.

But it couldn’t be.

There was no way. 

She was dead. Ivy had mourned her, had moved on, had reconstructed her broken life in a way that no longer had Harley at the center of it. She had decided it was the last time her heart would ever be broken and closed her emotions firmly off forever. 

But…no one else stood quite that way, hand on one hip and head cocked to the side, mischief personified. 

And no one else looked at her with those knowing eyes, eyes that had seen her best and worst and didn’t seem to prefer one over the other. 

And the way the sun lit up her hair…and the way she smiled…and suddenly Ivy knew, and Harley knew she knew. Harley (because it was her, it had to be!) gleefully bounded over and jumped right on top of Ivy, clinging to her like a spider monkey and knocking her to the ground. She covered Ivy’s face in happy, silly kisses, and Ivy held on to her as if she were drowning and Harley was a life preserver. 

“What – how – but –” stammered Ivy. 

Harley hopped off her, stood up and grabbed Ivy’s hand to help her up. “Yeah…’bout that. Lots to fill you in on, Red, but I’m starving. What say we go grab a burger, some fries and about two gallons of ketchup and I’ll give you the lowdown on what happened down below?”

Later, when Harley had eaten her fill and they were back at Nygma’s apartment, Ivy’s head was reeling. “You – you were really in hell? With demons, and your old crew, and – something about a gunslinger and a three-headed dog?”

Harley giggled. “Pretty much, yeah! But you forgot the part where I got kicked out for being too awesome and came back but I didn’t have a body and then the Martian Manhunter and Zatanna got me my body back!” 

She poked Nygma on the shoulder. He mumbled, “Whatever you say, Pamela.” 

Harley giggled again. “Man, it’s so good to be back! Hell really sucked.”

Ivy shook her head, still unable to process everything. “So…what’s next? I confess, I’m not familiar with the protocol when one returns from the dead.” 

Harley looked at her then. Something electric passed between them. 

And despite everything that had happened, despite how far Ivy had fallen and how hard she’d worked to claw her way back up again…it was as if no time had passed at all. 

Ivy felt a familiar blush work its way up her neck to her face, even as a familiar wetness grew between her thighs. God, no one but Harley had ever had this effect on her. It was, quite literally, insane. “Harley…” she said in a voice that was half croak, half whisper. 

Harley’s tongue flicked out as she wetted her lips. “Ivy.”

They crashed together then, and Ivy was shocked at how far beyond the physical their connection went. She could feel every inch of Harley’s body pressed against hers, their legs intertwined, Harley’s breasts warm against her, and it all felt familiar and scary and as intense as ever. But more than that, it felt like their souls were coming together after that inconvenient death-induced separation. 

Their tongues explored each other’s mouth without hesitating. This was no time for tentative, gentle kisses. Harley’s hands gripped her back, and one slid down to cup Ivy’s ass and pull her closer, so that they were grinding together in a rhythm that got more and more intense. 

Ivy couldn’t stop touching Harley – it was as if her body still couldn’t believe she was real, even though her brain had more or less accepted it. She trailed green fingers through Harley’s blonde hair, swiped her thumbs across Harley’s jawline and swept them around to the back of her neck, gently scratched down Harley’s collarbone to her cleavage…

…and then Harley murmured “Eddie.” Ivy pulled back for a minute, trying to clear the fog because something about that was weird. Harley grinned and pointed to the couch. “Nygma’s getting a free show. Looks like he’s even more vegetable than you are, but we might want to move this party to the bedroom?” 

Ivy nodded, and Harley took her by the hand and ran down the hall. She peeked in doors until she found the master bedroom, which of course Ivy had appropriated for herself. Then she started to tug Ivy through the doorway…but Ivy stopped. 

“What’s wrong?” Harley asked. She didn’t look hurt, just confused. 

Ivy let Harley’s hand go and stepped back to lean against the wall of the hallway. Harley stood frozen inside the bedroom. Her lips were swollen from Ivy’s kisses. Her hair was messy. She looked like heaven.

“I…can’t do this,” Ivy said. 

Harley still looked confused. “You mean…are we moving too fast? I kinda thought we could pick up where we left off, but if you want to take it slow, I mean…we can.” 

“I can’t do this because I don’t want to take it slow. I want you, all of you, just like I told you before. And I shoved those feelings down for months! I tried to move on with my life! For Christ’s sake, Harley, you DIED and I had to deal with that all alone without my best friend, and I would have died myself if someone hadn’t pulled me out of the park. And now you’re back, and the second I saw you all those feelings came rushing back, and I don’t know if you love me back and I don’t know if anyone could ever love me! I’m poison, and you’re the only true thing in my life. I swore to myself I would never let myself love again, not the way I loved you, not the way it hurt when you were gone. And if that means not being with you, then that’s how it has to be. Because I can’t hurt like that again. I would not survive it. And I won’t allow it.”

…is what Ivy would have said if for once, she said what was in her heart. 

But instead, she said, “I can’t do this with you at all.” 

And she walked down the hall and right out the door. 

She wandered the city for hours, not unlike the night Harley had died, convincing herself over and over that she was doing the right thing. She would be Harley’s friend forever – nothing could prevent that. But Ivy couldn’t put herself in a position to need her the way she did. She’d lived through that pain. 

When she got back to the apartment, Harley was sitting on the couch next to Nygma, feeding him chicken nuggets. She looked up and smiled hesitantly as the door opened. “He was lookin’ a little skinny, so I figured he might need some protein. At least, I think these have real protein in ‘em…”

Then Harley sighed, left the nuggets on the couch and walked over to Ivy. “Hey. What you said before…I get it. Things have changed since I was gone. Maybe before, we were heading for something…something more, but that was a long time ago, and I get that you’ve moved on. People change.” 

She hugged Ivy tight. Ivy’s arms encircled her friend as a reflex, and they hugged chastely for a minute. Harley released her and said, “Friends?” 

“Friends,” Ivy agreed. 

“Good!” said Harley. “Because I’ve been thinkin’…now, don’t get mad…but maybe you’re not the only one who was sad that I was dead. Maybe you’re not the only one who’s changed?”

Ivy got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Harley...” she said in a warning tone. “Please tell me you’re not talking about that madman.”

Harley blinked at her, the picture of innocence. “I’m not gonna bust him out or nothin’. Just, he’s been on my mind, ya know?” Then she looked down at the floor. “Right before I died, things were so good with you and me, and I wasn’t thinkin’ about Mr. J at all.” 

A shudder ran down Ivy’s spine just hearing Harley say that nickname. 

Harley continued, “But now, I don’t know. I might get lonely sometimes. I have you as my friend again, and that’s great and all…but I need someone special on my mind or I’ll just go nuts!” 

Ivy considered her options. She could confess her true feelings and see where things went this time, or she could stay quiet, keep her heart safe, and run the risk that Harley ended up back in the Joker’s clutches. 

She remembered something Harley had told her once, way back when she was her therapist. Ivy was having a harder day than usual, depleted from the lack of sunlight, and she was on the verge of an outburst when Dr. Quinzel surprised her. She put a comforting hand on Ivy’s knee and said, “I get it. I do. You feel like the next thing will break you. It might be hard to believe, but I’ve been there.” 

The doctor’s eyes seemed to burn into Ivy’s as she continued, “Whenever I get to that point, there’s this calm little voice in the back of my head that says, ‘Calm down. We can take this much.’” 

She removed her hand from Ivy’s knee, clearing her throat to cover the awkwardness of the moment. “You’re an incredibly strong, brilliant woman, Ivy. You can take this much.” 

Back in the present, Ivy looked at her friend and decided that for the sake of her own heart, she’d have to try to survive watching her friend get hers broken. “You know how I feel about that clown, Harley. But I’m your friend. And I’ll always be here for you when he breaks your heart.” 

Was it her imagination, or did Harley look crestfallen at that? 

But she put on a happy face quickly, said, “Thanks, Red!” and bounded over to the couch to finish feeding Eddie his nuggets. 

Ivy watched her go, her face frozen in a fake smile, her heart breaking. 

Next chapter: The unholy trinity that is…Gotham City Sirens!


	11. You Are One Strong Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gets us through Gotham City Sirens Part 1, and some of Part 2. 
> 
> Hard stuff to write - they're not together, Harley is crazy about the Joker, and it's all leading up to that one terrible moment. But we have to get there eventually...

The next few months were some of the hardest in Ivy’s life. 

She’d been through a lot – betrayal, then years of self-induced solitude, broken only when she needed to use someone. Then a certain Dr. Quinzel brought some light back into her life, and over the years Harley became so much more to Ivy – a confidante, then a friend, a partner in crime, and at one point it seemed as though they were headed for something even deeper. 

But then Harley died. And that part of Ivy died with her. 

Then Harley came back, damn her. Figures that she would bounce in and out of hell like it was the most natural thing in the world. But Ivy wasn’t prepared for it (who would be?), and her grief was still too raw, and she pushed Harley away because she couldn’t open herself up like that again. She needed to embrace the green, to push away her humanity. Love was weakness. 

But they couldn’t stay apart, not even in this awkward state halfway between friends and something more. Their lives were intertwined now. 

So Ivy pushed her feelings way down deep and kept Harley close, never suspecting that even with all of her defenses firmly in place, Harley would soon break her heart yet again. 

They’d never really had a third before – it had always been the two of them, or they’d separately been part of some other group, but the Ivy-plus-Harley-plus-other dynamic was new. 

And Catwoman brought her fair share of issues to the table. Ivy never quite trusted the cat, but she also never forgot the time Selina had dragged her out of Robinson Park when she went there to die. (She also never mentioned that time to Harley, figuring it would complicate things. But Harley being Harley, she accepted “Kitty” into their lives with no questions asked anyway.)

If nothing else, Selina brought some much-needed perspective to their group. At least she could see clearly how the Joker had poisoned Harley’s mind. The first time the three of them were in Nygma’s apartment together, Catwoman scoffed at how Harley was spending the money they stole from Hush: “You’re worse than the flower child. You might as well be throwing away your millions on the Joker.” 

Ivy tensed – not at being called ‘the flower child,’ but any mention of the clown made her seize up. 

Harley went for her usual denial, saying stubbornly, “Not this time. I’m over Mr. J.” 

And this is where Ivy began to feel that Selina could be her ally occasionally, however unlikely, because before Ivy could say anything, Selina said, “Oh, please. He’ll be calling for your money the second he hears about it.” 

Ivy knew it wasn’t Harley’s money the Joker was after. She tried and failed to hide how miserable she felt, saying only, “Then you’ll be skipping out the door for another round of abuse, humiliation and regret.”

Harley didn’t even seem to hear her. She perked up the second Selina said the Joker would call and completely ignored both Ivy’s pain and her derision. “Has he called?!” 

“No,” said Ivy, sneering. 

“Oh,” Harley said. “Well, like I said, I’m over Mr. J.”

Not one of the three of them believed it. But Ivy was strangely relieved that Selina saw through Harley the same way she did. It made her feel less…alone. 

Harley, for her part, seemed unaffected, like she did about most things. Dying? No big deal. Coming back? Cool! Things with Ivy on hold? Oh well! She’d just moon over the Joker, of all people, and date a Batman impostor, and generally stomp all over Ivy’s heart without a second thought. God, Ivy hated her sometimes. 

(No, she didn’t.)

But when it came down to it, they needed each other as much as ever. These days, Ivy’s emotions only flared when Harley was involved. When the Riddler wouldn’t help Ivy and Catwoman find Harley, Ivy was livid: “Time to die, meat.” When Harley almost got killed by the Joker blimp on her date with Hush, it was once again Ivy who saved her. 

And when they all thought it was the Joker trying to kill Harley, that was the last straw for Ivy. Even Catwoman agreed – he had to die. 

Naturally, Harley’s backwards logic had her thinking that it meant he wanted her back. 

Ivy, who never lost her cool, actually yelled: “Wake up, Harley! This is life or death! I know something about human hearts—I’ve spent my life manipulating them. I can tell when there’s a real spark there, however small.”

She would never admit who her own spark was with. But god, did she still feel it. Only in her weakest moments, when her defenses were down, but it never truly went away. 

When they were about to take down Gaggy, thinking he was the Joker, Ivy felt a familiar sizzle as she hushed Harley with a vine and whispered right in her ear: “I know, baby. It’s hard to see the ex get it. We’ll make it quick, I promise.”

When she was in the Amazon, paradise on earth, she couldn’t honestly answer the question “Why don’t I simply live here forever?” But a tiny part of her knew what – who – kept bringing her back. The same person who inspired her to save those eco-tourists. Who hugged her just like old times when they all got back together over Christmas. Who (Catwoman later told her), when Ivy was kidnapped by a GCPD officer who thought she killed his brother, despondently talked to a cactus in the hopes that it could find Ivy. 

No, her feelings for Harley never abated, no matter how many times Ivy wished she could turn them off. But neither did Harley’s feelings for that monster. And when the Park Killer said he loved Ivy, it was both Harley’s love for the Joker and Ivy’s love for Harley that had her saying, “Love? I have seen love. It is a burden more than a joy.” 

When Ivy killed him in the next moment, she truly believed she was setting him free. 

Needless to say, Ivy found the whole situation distasteful. She’d allowed her emotions to run rampant for months now, and even if Harley was too clueless to see it, Ivy knew – and Selina seemed to suspect it too. 

So Ivy did what anyone would do in her situation: she sought distractions. She got hired at S.T.A.R. Labs and immediately lost herself in her work. 

For anyone else, that might have meant staying late, writing reports, getting buried in meetings, maybe navigating office politics. 

For Ivy, it meant getting trapped in a giant dehydrator and falling hard for the lies of an alien plant-man. 

Ivy had finally found her equal. She was prepared to take over the world with him. She could kiss him and he wouldn’t die, and he understood her on a far deeper level than the only other person she could safely kiss. 

But once again, a tiny voice broke through to her, as it always seemed to in her darkest moments. 

Harley lay there on the ground, beaten and nearly broken by the alien plant. She could barely speak, but croaked out, “He’s…a real catch…Ivy…guess we both got rotten taste in fellas…”

Ivy managed to regain some of her old distance, sneering coldly, “We are nothing alike.” 

But Harley wouldn’t shut up. “Ivy, listen…this guy won’t need you…once he’s done with you. He’s using you…like you use normal guys…like Mister J used me…”

There was some grain of truth in that, something that kept Ivy listening even though she could have destroyed the human at any moment. 

Harley continued melting Ivy’s defenses, reminding her of when she found Harley in Robinson Park all those years ago. “You nursed me back to health…I know you considered finishing me off when you found me, but you didn’t…and I don’t think you’ll do it now.” 

And then she delivered the killing blow: logic. “Ivy, I know you think you love this guy…but you’re just gonna end up strapped to his rocket!”

That did it. Poison Ivy would be used by no man. She turned on the alien, destroying her only true equal in the process, shouting at him: “Why did it take a clown to point out the obvious? I was seduced and used before. Never again. I will never know real love! But I am well past that now.”

Without a conscious thought, her eyes strayed toward Harley. Yes…it was best if everyone thought she was well past love. 

The incident actually helped Ivy to understand how Harley could be so thoroughly taken in by the Joker’s lies, and she began to see her friend’s situation more as an addiction, a sickness, than as love. 

Which unfortunately made her soften toward Harley once again. And that only exacerbated the tension between Ivy and Catwoman, and in the end it led to the worst moment of Ivy’s life. 

But before things got to that point, they were just…tense. 

“Who. Is. Batman?” Ivy sneered at Catwoman. 

Harley was between the two of them, trying desperately to keep the peace. But Ivy was relentless: “Look closely, Harley. This is what a traitor looks like.”

Catwoman said, “How did I become the bad guy?” 

Ivy scoffed. “You’re the one who’s choosing a man over her girls.” 

Then Catwoman had the gall to pull Harley into it, saying, “Are you kidding me? You would never say that to Harley, and we both know she’d dump us in a flat second if Joker called her.”

Ivy had to suppress a small smile despite herself when Harley said indignantly, “Hey! That’s not fair – actually, that’s probably true.”

And with her newfound empathy for Harley’s situation, she defended her dearest friend against the cat, saying, “The difference is, she can’t help it. You can. And she’s working on it. You’re not working on it.”

So, as usual, the dynamics among the three of them were complicated. Ivy defended Harley to Selina. Then Harley defended Selina to Ivy, convincing her to help Catwoman – mostly so she could fight Zatanna. (Also, Ivy stopped a building from falling on her and Harley, using just vines. Harley was impressed and said, “You are one strong lady.” Ivy just said, “I know.”) 

And when Harley thought Catwoman was dead, she cried, saying, “I loved my Kitty. I loved her so much.”

But when it was Selina’s turn to help Harley, she failed them all. 

Next chapter: Harley busts the Joker out – and breaks Ivy’s heart.


	12. When Laughter Breaks Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst, heartbreak, the end of the Sirens. Tees us up for our thrilling conclusion.
> 
> Hope you enjoy ;)

The three sirens of Gotham City had to move – again. It seemed to happen regularly, that their not-so-humble abodes got destroyed. Ivy supposed it went with the territory: not quite villains these days, certainly not heroes, they managed to make enemies of everyone. 

So it was there, at the arboretum, that she lost Harley. Not the end, but the beginning of the end. 

Ivy was wandering around, exploring the grounds, when Selina came rushing in to find her. “Harley’s gone.” 

“Gone? Who took her?” Ivy whirled around and grabbed the cat by her shoulders. “Where is she, Selina?” 

“You need to take it down a notch, greenie,” said Selina, removing Ivy’s hands from her shoulders. “She left on her own. She was playing therapist on me –”

“Not playing,” interrupted Ivy. “She is a therapist. One of the best I’ve known.”

“Okay,” said Selina, holding up a hand. “I’m not trying to insult your bestie here. I’m trying to get you to help me figure out where she went.” Ivy gestured impatiently for her to continue. “I was opening up about Batman, about how there are times I wish I’d never met him, and how at those times it feels like something close to hatred.”

Ivy was already halfway to the door. “Get your stupid mask if you want it. I know where she is.”

They caught up with Harley at the abandoned amusement park. Catwoman and Ivy tried to reason with her, but there was a darkness to her that Ivy had never seen before. She was unreachable. Harley dosed the two of them with some version of Joker gas that Ivy wasn’t immune to and stalked off, planning to take the Joker down solo. 

If only she had. 

As Catwoman scoped out Arkham from the top of a nearby building, Ivy fumed with impatience. She had never seen that look in Harley’s eyes. There had been dark times, sure, but Harley always had the last laugh. Was her friend lost forever? 

“Let’s go already.” 

Catwoman ignored her urgency. She continued her careful scan of the perimeter and said, “No wonder you’ve been in Arkham so many times.” 

“What’d you just say?” Ivy said, dangerously quiet behind her. 

Catwoman said, “I said you need to have patience, Ivy.”

Patience? How dare she? When one of them was in trouble, Harley was always the first to jump into the fray. Ivy choked back her feelings and simply said, “We have our plan. Harley’s in trouble. Let’s go.”

Then, like a cat with a laser pointer, Selina got distracted. The GCPD were converging on Devil’s Square.

Ivy’s only priority was saving Harley. She never wavered from that. 

Harley would never abandon her friends, either. Selina had to see that. She had to make a choice. 

She chose poorly. 

All Selina had to say was “Ivy.” And in that moment, Ivy knew. Knew she was about to leave Harley to whatever fate awaited her inside Arkham. 

Ivy regarded the cat coolly and, leaving no room for misunderstanding, said, “Let me put it this way, Selina. If you walk away from this, from helping me save Harley, I will never forgive you. You will be my sworn enemy until the day I die.” 

They said their goodbyes. The cat left to chase whatever ball of yarn was distracting her.

And Ivy wasted no time heading for Arkham. Back to where they’d met. Back to where it all began for them. Therapist and patient, later neighboring inmates, then friends and so much more.

In a strange way, it felt like going home.

Inside, Arkham was in absolute chaos. Ivy ignored it all. She had a single goal: to save Harley. By this time, she could have been taken prisoner – by the Arkham guards or by the Joker himself – or worse. 

She rounded a corner, saw the Joker about to stab some idiot in a black skull mask, instinctively shot her vines out to entrap him – and heard two words that all but shattered her. 

“Puddin’! Wait!” 

So it was worse, then. Worse than she could have imagined. 

Ivy forced herself to put her own feelings aside – the goal was still “Save Harley,” even if some insanity had driven her back into the arms of that madman. 

Harley actually yelled at Ivy to put him down – three times. 

Ivy thought maybe, just maybe, their friendship was strong enough to withstand Harley’s Joker fixation. She spoke sternly to Harley: “Listen to me! We’ve been friends a long time. But if you don’t come with me, that friendship is over.”

She couldn’t believe they were actually having this conversation. That Harley had gone from blood vengeance back into whatever unholy power the Joker held over her, apparently within minutes. 

“I saved you from him – and from yourself – too many times. I’m sick of it.”

She looked directly into Harley’s eyes: “So what’s it gonna be? Him? Or me?”

They held each other’s gaze for a long moment. Ivy took in Harley’s tense posture, her sneer, the fury in her eyes not directed at the Joker (where it rightfully belonged), but at Ivy herself. 

Some small part of her knew that it was already over. But she couldn’t just give up. More calmly this time, she said, “I’ll say it one last time, Harley. Choose. Joker. Or me.”

Still no response. Was Harley stalling for time? The rest of the world disappeared around them as Ivy said, pleading now, “Harley, listen to me…we’ve been friends a long time. As your friend, I’m asking you to come with me…I’m begging you to wake up and stop this!”

Save Harley, save Harley, chanted the voice inside her head. 

She wondered what the voice inside Harley’s head was saying to her right then. Whose voice it spoke in.

Finally, Harley spoke. “Wake up?”

Maybe I’m getting through to her, Ivy thought. She said, “Yes. You are a strong woman. Capable of so much. You are not—”

And then they attacked her. The Joker, who had been worming his way free while Harley – her Harley – not her Harley anymore, she realized finally – kept Ivy busy. And Harley herself. They came at her together. 

Poison Ivy would not be subdued so easily, though. Her vines knocked them both to the ground. She stood above Harley and said, hating the desperation in her own voice, “What is wrong with you? This isn’t you! This isn’t the Harley I know! This isn’t the way you are when you’re not around him.”

She refused to believe it. She kept trying to save Harley, save Harley. But Harley wouldn’t be saved. They continued like this for another minute or so – Ivy trying to convince Harley of the truth, Harley resisting – until Harley used the word “puddin’” again and Ivy just lost it, screaming, “Joker doesn’t love you, Harley! He’s just using you!”

At that, Harley looked triumphant. Ivy wasn’t sure why. It made her uneasy. 

She kept the Joker firmly ensnared in her vines as Harley slowly started to approach her. “What about you, Ivy? Aren’t you just using me, too?”

Ivy just said, desperately, “I’m your friend, Harley!”

Harley advanced on her. “Are you? What do you get out of our friendship?” She held out her hands, weaponless yet about to inflict a devastating blow. “Tell me, Ivy, what do you get? Someone to rely on you? Someone who depends on you?”

She was close enough that Ivy could have grabbed her. Could have choked her with vines, could have silenced her forever. But instead, she froze as Harley continued her verbal assault. 

“Do you like that?” purred Harley. “Or is it something deeper? Is there another reason you’ve been so dedicated to our friendship for so long?”

She leaned close to Ivy. Close enough to touch, close enough to kiss, close enough to whisper in her ear the words that cut through every wall of vines Ivy had built around her heart, the words that cut Ivy cruelly, the words that meant Harley had seen the truth all along and chosen to ignore it until the moment it would destroy her:

“Is it because you love me?”

Ivy froze. She actually felt something deep inside her crack. 

And Harley, her dearest friend, her not-so-secret love, punched her three times in the face. 

Ivy fell into a hole.

She fell forever. 

When she woke up, Catwoman was standing over her, taunting her. Probably putting her back in Arkham. 

Ivy didn’t care. 

She thought she could see Batman standing behind the cat.

She didn’t care. 

She lay there and let them pick her up with rough hands, pull her out of the hole that Harley had knocked her into, put her in a tube with gas that neutralized her plant growing abilities. 

She lay there and thought. About nature, friendship, love, betrayal. 

Above all, she thought about vengeance. 

She was nature, after all – red in tooth and claw. She was Poison Ivy. 

And Catwoman would learn what that meant. She had taken what once meant most to Ivy in this world. Whatever drivel she had spouted to Harley about the Batman had sent her friend here, to be lost to Ivy forever. 

Ivy was beyond friendship now, beyond love. But she was not above seeking revenge. 

When the stranger approached her, she had already made up her mind to kill Catwoman. His offer of a donation to the rainforest conservation fund was merely a bonus. 

It was a simple enough matter to breach her cell with a seeker vine, to lower the concentration of toxins in the air so that Ivy could make her escape. Some persuasion, some carefully placed vines – she was already starting to feel like herself again. 

But before she dealt with Catwoman, there was a small matter she must attend to first. 

The scene replayed in her head, over and over. Ivy needed to end it. Harley’s slow, mocking approach, her derisive sneer, the way her lips felt against Ivy’s ear as she whispered the words that made a mockery of their lives together. 

As Ivy left her cell, her thoughts were crystal clear. “Harley. She’s the only true friend I’ve ever had. But after what she did…after what she said…I am going to kill her. Snap her like a flag in the wind.”

She was beyond emotion now. This was a necessary step – a link that must be forever broken so she could return to her former glory. 

Ivy entered Harley’s cell. Her vines trapped Harley’s arms, covered her mouth. She prepared to deliver the killing blow, switching on the light and saying, “Hello, Harley. Your turn to di–”

And then she saw the cell. The Joker leered at her from every surface, his evil grin mocking her. And she knew that this desperate artwork was a reflection of its occupant’s broken mind, this girl slumped on the ground in front of her. 

And the familiar refrain of “save Harley, save Harley” echoed once more in the depths of Ivy’s own mind. 

Memories arose unbidden. Ivy felt her resolve crumbling, her humanity returning full force, unbidden and unwanted. 

“Oh, Harley,” she thought. “The only human I’ve ever called a friend.” 

Their first meeting outside Arkham. Harley’s hand emerging from the wreck of the rocket ship, ever a willing victim of the Joker. 

“To what lengths will I go? Where are my own limits? She is the Strangler Fig. And I am the tree, choking underneath.” 

Nursing Harley back to health. 

Fighting side by side – as villains, as good guys for a night, it had never mattered as long as they fought together. 

“But without her, I would fall if I grew too tall.” 

God help her, she thought about Harley laughing, foam on her nose from whatever ridiculous beverage was in her mug, “What?” as Ivy gazed at her friend, the light to her darkness. 

“Will she ever stand by herself? Will she ever be ready?” 

Ivy brought her mind back to the present. “She is in throes of madness. She sees him, her brain flooding with adrenaline—it makes her excited, nervous—then the feelings start to fade, and she needs more. And more. She sees it as passion. She sees it as love. But it’s not. It’s addiction. And she’s relapsing.”

Ivy searched her own soul for answers. Her feelings for Harley were complicating things, as usual. She considered the options. 

There was classic Poison Ivy: “I could use pheromones, alter her brain chemistry.” But she wasn’t sure she could do that to Harley – it would make her too much like all the other clods Ivy had manipulated over the years. No, she deserved better than that.

There was abandonment: “I could leave her behind, abandoning her to the wilds of her own mind.” But even now, she knew she could never walk away from the broken girl in front of her. 

There was vengeance: “I could kill her right now. Show her how red Nature can be.” And five minutes ago, that had seemed like the best option. The most final, in a way the kindest. But once again, the juxtaposition of Harley’s apparent weakness with what Ivy knew was a core of pure strength had crashed right through her defenses. 

And there was the only real option: to save Harley, like she’d intended to do when she first broke into Arkham. Ivy thought, “There’s one other option. It would require patience. Even love.” Ivy looked at Harley then, for a long moment. Allowed herself to access her real feelings, just this once. 

Then her eyes dropped. “Maybe I’m more human than I want to admit.”

It’s the choice Ivy would always make. It wasn’t even a choice. 

She refocused Harley’s attention on getting revenge on Catwoman. She held out her hand. And together, they escaped Arkham for what might be the last time. 

They retrieved Harley’s costume, and for a minute it felt like old times. But they didn’t speak, hardly looked at each other, avoided all physical contact. So it was a nightmarish version of old times, without the deeper connection that had always united them.

They smashed into the Penguin’s hideout and made him reveal Catwoman’s whereabouts. 

Later, on the rooftop (yet another rooftop), Catwoman and Ivy exchanged barbs while Harley stood in silence, her mind on god knows what. Ivy let it distract her for just a moment, and Catwoman disappeared. 

Finally, Harley spoke out of pure surprise: “Where’d she go? She’s slippery. Like Puddin’ is when he fights Bats and—” 

Ivy lost her cool when Harley said the P-word, as always: “Harley! What’d I say? No talking about—” and it allowed Catwoman to get the drop on her. 

She was no match for the two of them, though, and between Ivy’s vines and Harley’s hammer, they had Catwoman tied up in a matter of minutes. 

Then the truth came out. Surprisingly, Harley was quicker on the uptake than Ivy, realizing that Catwoman was telling the truth: Batman had manipulated the three of them into living together. 

Ivy resisted until Catwoman delivered the killing blow: “Did we – the three of us – did we work? Did the three of us make sense as a team? Ever?” 

She was talking about the three of them, but everything she said applied just as well to Ivy and Harley. Their friendship, their…no matter, it was over now.

Ivy’s head dipped the slightest amount. She felt an uncomfortable sensation in the corner of her eye, a prickle and a hint of moisture. When the rage came, it was a relief. 

Enormous vines shot up from beneath the streets of Gotham as Ivy raged. “BATMAN!” 

It was chaos. Utter destruction. Her giant vines uprooted entire high-rise buildings, smashing them together in Ivy’s fury. 

Batman arrived then, and oddly it was Catwoman who fought him. Apparently she wasn’t big on being manipulated, either. 

But it was the three Sirens’ final conversation that held Ivy’s attention. Yes, she was furious with the bat. But her rage came from a deeper place, a more personal place, and it had more to do with Harley than anything else. 

The others seemed shocked at the devastation Ivy could inflict. She knew, though, that she could do so much more. 

Harley shouted at Ivy, “What’s wrong with you? And you call me the crazy one?!” 

Ivy ignored her. 

Harley tried again: “Do you know what the definition of ‘insanity’ is, Ivy?”

Ha, thought Ivy bitterly, reflecting on all the times she’d gone back to Harley and expected a different result. But outwardly, she snapped, “Says the one who keeps going back to be abused by Joker—”

Harley delivered what would have been a killing blow, if the events of the past day hadn’t already taken so much out of Ivy. “Just because no one loves you, Ivy, doesn’t mean—”

Catwoman interrupted them then, urging them to leave before Batman hauled both of them back to Arkham. 

Ivy collected herself. Despite everything, her mind still whispered “save Harley, save Harley” over and over. She started to leave, calling over her shoulder, “C’mon, Harley, let’s—”

And Harley stood tall. “I’m not going with you.” 

Ivy whirled to look at her, amidst the wreckage and the flames. She held her hammer. She looked disheveled and strong and glorious. “What? Harley–“ 

Harley interrupted her. “Ivy. Listen to me.” She walked over to Ivy, then. Put a hand on her shoulder. Looked her in the eye and said, “I’m ready.” 

Ivy knew then: she couldn’t save Harley this time. Harley had to save herself. 

She put a shaky hand on Harley’s arm, wishing she could hold it there forever, could pull Harley close and whisk her away. She felt the full weight of their lives together in that moment. 

But all she could say was, “…Okay.”

And as Catwoman turned to face the bat, as Gotham burned around them, Harley and Ivy walked their separate ways. 

Next chapter: We return to the present! (Remember how Ivy was, like, telling all of this to Harley or something? Yeah, we’re going back there!)


	13. Only One Thing I Love More Than Plants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is what it's all been leading up to...hope it was worth the wait!

Back in the present, Ivy and Harley sat on the couch together as the sun began to peek cautiously over the horizon, spilling orange light into one corner of the penthouse. 

During the night, as Ivy had recounted her incredibly detailed memories of their entire history together, the two of them had shifted positions from sitting side by side, to Ivy wrapping an arm casually around Harley while she cuddled up against Ivy’s side, to their current position where Ivy was reclining along the length of the couch, her arms encircling Harley as Harley lay back against her comfortably. 

Ivy’s long fingers absently traced patterns along Harley’s arm. They sat there for a while in silence, absorbing everything that had just passed between them. 

“Wow,” breathed Harley finally. “And then…”

“And then,” said Ivy, “I ran away to the only place where I could at least hope to forget about you: the Amazon.” 

“And you were there for, like, a year or two, right?” 

Ivy considered. “Yes, that sounds about right. Maybe a year and a half. I spent my days absorbing sunlight, becoming one with the green, and my nights were spent teaching miscreant loggers and poachers a lesson.” 

Harley grinned. “That’s my girl!” 

Ivy smiled and kissed the top of her head affectionately. “At times, I went weeks without seeing a single human. And the only ones I did see, I was either fighting them or dosing them with pheromones, depending on my mood, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” said Harley. 

“And then one day,” Ivy said, “I was lying in a lovely hammock that I had constructed from native plants. It had been days since I’d seen a person, and I knew no one could find me there, so I was at peace, my guard down.”

She smiled against Harley’s hair, remembering. “One of my hands hung just out of the hammock, and when I felt something slip into it, I assumed it was one of my vines seeking my touch. But then I felt it intertwine with my fingers, and when I looked down, I saw a small pale hand –”

“No one could find you there? Ha!” said Harley. “I know my Red. I know what it looks like when you’ve been in one place for a while, the way life follows in your wake. So I just flew to Costa Verde, took a bus to the Isley and Quinzel Botanical Reserve, and followed your trail through the rainforest.” 

She paused. “And then, when I saw you lying there, it took my breath away. I don’t know how we could be apart for so long, but I knew I couldn’t go another day without you in my life. So I flew down to search for you, and then when I finally found you, I just watched for a minute.”

Harley tangled her fingers with Ivy’s now. “And then I took your hand, just like this. And you opened your eyes, and looked at our hands…”

“And I knew right away that there was only one person who would travel halfway around the world for me.” 

Harley sat up now across Ivy’s lap, dangling her legs off the couch. She angled her torso to face Ivy and put a hand to the side of her face, stroking it gently. Ivy leaned into her touch, closing her eyes. Harley leaned close and whispered, “I would do anything for you, Red. Anything.” 

Ivy opened her eyes. “I know, sweet pea. Me too.” 

They stayed just like that for a minute, looking into each other’s eyes as Harley caressed Ivy’s cheek. 

Then Harley pressed her forehead to Ivy’s. “So…you’re right, you know.” She felt, rather than saw, Ivy quirk an eyebrow at that, and it made her smile. “There are a million and one reasons we shouldn’t be together.” Ivy tried and failed not to stiffen at that, but at least she managed not to bolt from the couch. 

“Ow,” said Harley. “Hang on, this is really uncomfortable.” She adjusted her position so she was leaning over Ivy on all fours. Ivy’s eyes darkened instantly and her tongue darted out to lick her lips. Harley noticed and half-smiled. In that special low voice that only Ivy got to hear, she purred, “But as a trained psychiatrist, I do feel that we should explore the alternatives. There are some pretty compelling reasons that we should give this – us – a try.” 

Ivy’s heart was beating at about twice its normal rate. She swallowed hard and said, “Such as…?” She felt like her entire body was charged, every nerve ending a frayed electrical wire so that if Harley touched one, they’d both go up in sparks. 

“Well, Red,” said Harley, still in that voice that sent shivers down Ivy’s spine, “I just heard you tell the story of our entire history together. And if there’s one key takeaway from getting to hear the last several years of your innermost secret thoughts, it’s that –” (here she leaned close, still kneeling over Ivy but not touching her, their faces half a breath apart) “you’re super hot for me.” 

She brushed her lips over Ivy’s then, so gently. 

Ivy moaned. She couldn’t take it anymore. Swiftly, she reversed their positions, using her strength and Harley’s flexibility to good advantage so that she was now astride Harley, their bodies pressed together firmly, Ivy’s knees on either side of Harley’s hips. 

But Harley was still in control of this moment, uncharacteristically still yet predatory as she gazed intensely up at Ivy and said, “But it’s more than that, isn’t it?” She began to rock gently against Ivy, then. Ivy bit her lower lip as the sensations crashed into her. She closed her eyes and nodded, unable to meet Harley’s eyes in this moment of naked emotion. 

Then she felt Harley’s hand on her chin, tilting it up so they were practically nose to nose. Ivy’s eyes opened automatically. She heard and felt Harley saying, “It’s a lot more than that for me, too,” and then Harley lunged up to capture her mouth and she couldn’t think anymore. 

They crashed together then, two forces of nature, order and chaos. It felt inevitable and at the same time miraculous. Harley’s hands seemed to be everywhere at once: tangling in Ivy’s red tresses, trailing down her arms, skimming up and down her back, cupping her ass, gripping her hips and pulling their bodies tightly into one another. 

Ivy lost herself in Harley. She was drowning. She was finally living. 

She took her weight on her knees for just a second, so that she could reach up with both hands and gently tug out Harley’s pigtails. Harley’s blonde hair spilled around her on the couch cushions, and Ivy ran one hand through it, then slid that same hand to the back of Harley’s neck and pulled their lips into closer contact as she slid her body sinuously against Harley’s, making the other woman gasp. 

Ivy established a rhythm that was intense yet controlled, bringing their lips together then apart in a series of hot, wet, quick kisses as she rolled her hips into Harley’s at the same pace, grinding their centers into one another until they were both breathless, panting against each other. 

“Fuck, Red,” Harley groaned. 

“Oh, I plan to,” whispered Ivy against her mouth, with a smile that had quite literally rendered many people powerless. 

Her one hand was still trapped beneath Harley’s head, but she was able to sneak her other hand to the hem of Harley’s t-shirt. Harley moaned again as she felt Ivy’s fingers stroke the skin at her hipbone, Ivy’s lips gently enveloping her lower lip and sucking on it gently. 

Then Ivy pulled back, just a little. They were still pressed tightly together, her fingers on the tight flesh of Harley’s hip. Ivy swallowed and said, “Harley…before we do this…I need you to know something.”

“Anything, Ivy,” breathed Harley beneath her. She planted one more quick, wet kiss on Ivy’s lips, then leaned back, listening. 

“I’m…I just need you to know that I’m not…him,” said Ivy. She looked down, once again unable to make eye contact. When she felt Harley shake below her, she quickly looked up, alarmed. But Harley wasn’t crying, she was…laughing? 

“I’m sorry, Red, it’s just…” Harley bit her lower lip suggestively and reached up to trail one finger slowly down Ivy’s collarbone, to the substantial swell of her cleavage, then skimmed her fingertip just along the edge of Ivy’s green bodysuit, tantalizingly close to her nipple. “I mean, obviously you’re not a ‘him.’”

Ivy smiled a little, taken by surprise as always with her friend’s ability to stay upbeat and find the humor in even the most serious moments. “Idiot,” she said affectionately, lightly headbutting her. “I mean, I’m not him him.” 

Harley’s eyes tightened a bit at that. Her smile fell away, and she held Ivy’s gaze fiercely. “You’re the idiot if you think I don’t know that with all my heart.” If possible, her eyes burned even more fiercely. “I told you once – you’re the only person who ever made me feel safe. If you think for even a second that what we have is in any way like – that other thing, then –”

She stopped abruptly when Ivy’s lips captured hers roughly. “Shut up, Harley.” She kissed her again, more gently this time. “Let me try again. What I mean is…” Ivy paused for a second, trying to collect her thoughts. Harley watched her closely, reaching one hand up and gently trailing it along Ivy’s jawbone. Ivy leaned into her touch. “When you were with…him…you were his. And we’ve both seen how that turns out, and we both know how you can get when you’re around him, like you regress and all of a sudden you’re powerless, and…I just don’t want that for us. I don’t want you to feel like you have to be my Harley. I just want you to be…Harley, and I’ll be Ivy, and we’ll see where this goes. Okay?” 

Harley looked up at her friend, then – her friend, who was so uncomfortable with human emotions and yet was lying on top of her, turning her on more than she’d ever been before, and more importantly opening up her heart to Harley. She smiled, and there was so much love and tenderness in her eyes that Ivy felt an actual tear come to her own eye. All Harley said was “Okay,” but there was a world of promise in that one word. 

Harley pulled Ivy down into yet another kiss. Then she grinned against her mouth and said, “Just so we’re clear…it sounds like you’re saying we can do this, but we don’t have to be exclusive? Like, I can have my Ivy and eat it too?” 

Ivy pulled back just a touch, brushed Harley’s hair out of her face, and smiled wickedly as she said, “My god, I hope so.” 

The next thing she knew, Harley had flipped them over and Ivy found herself looking up into intense blue eyes, blonde hair dangling in her face, the tips just barely brushing Ivy’s face. “Promises, promises,” Harley whispered. 

And for once in her life, Poison Ivy felt completely powerless. Harley was usually pure chaos, in a fight or in the bedroom, but she was reining in that chaos and taking total control of the situation. And it was the most erotic thing Ivy had ever seen. 

Harley held her captive with her eyes alone. They were usually sparkling with mischief, but they were deadly serious at the moment, all joking aside for the moment as she stared at Ivy. Ivy felt like Harley could see right through her defenses into her very soul – and maybe, after everything Ivy had shared that night, she could. 

Then Harley’s mouth was on hers, possessing, conquering. And Harley’s hands fisted in Ivy’s hair, as they so often seemed drawn to do. And Harley’s breasts rubbed against Ivy’s, and even through both layers of clothing it felt amazing. And one of Harley’s legs was suddenly between Ivy’s, parting her legs and rubbing right up against her, and fuck if she kept doing that Ivy was going to – 

“Oh god, Harley!” Ivy shuddered as the orgasm rippled through her out of nowhere. Harley pulled back momentarily to shoot her a fierce grin. “Pretty sure that’s twice now I’ve made you come while you were fully clothed, Red.” Then her grin faded and her eyes bored into Ivy’s once more. “Now lose the bodysuit and let’s see what happens when you’re naked.” 

Ivy lay there, panting, still recovering from the jolt that had just shot through her. She collected herself enough to wave a hand, and the tendrils and leaves covering her slowly receded, uncovering Ivy’s green skin as they disappeared under the couch. 

Harley’s new badass demeanor slipped for just a second. “Holy shit, that was awesome!” Then she looked down at Ivy, and hissed involuntarily at the sight of her glorious body. 

Harley’s eyes seared into Ivy’s one more time before she dove down, capturing Ivy’s lips and sliding her tongue between them to tangle with Ivy’s. 

Then Harley abruptly sat up. She shifted her body so that she was kneeling between Ivy’s thighs, and as her gaze raked over Ivy’s body, Harley followed it with a single finger. She traced the outline of Ivy’s forehead, to her cheek, around the curve of her ear. She trailed that finger down behind Ivy’s ear, along the curve of her jaw, down the side of her neck. Harley’s nostrils flared as she skimmed her finger down Ivy’s collarbone, her touch feather light yet intense, then down the middle of Ivy’s sternum and between her breasts. 

“Jesus, Red,” she breathed reverently. Ivy saw Harley’s pupils dilate as she brought both hands now to Ivy’s sides, running the backs of her hands up Ivy’s hips and then gently along the sides of Ivy’s ample breasts. She ran the tips of her fingers down the outside of Ivy’s breasts, then ran the backs of her hands up them again, over and over until Ivy moaned and pressed her breasts upwards, craving more contact. 

Harley stopped and held a single finger to her lips. “Patience, beautiful,” she whispered. She lightly skimmed her palms over Ivy’s nipples, making her whimper, before she resumed her exploration of Ivy’s naked body. 

She was back to trailing a single finger down Ivy’s body now, swiping it along the underside of her breasts and then agonizingly slowly down the middle of her abdomen, circling her navel and sending a jolt straight to Ivy’s core. 

Harley leaned back a tiny bit, to give herself access to go lower, and her gaze fell for the first time between Ivy’s legs. Harley’s mouth went dry, and she swallowed heavily, her finger freezing in place just above Ivy’s mound. She looked back up at Ivy for a second and the corner of her mouth quirked. “Well, I guess that answers that!” she croaked. 

Then her gaze turned predatory again, and she trailed her finger slightly to the side, sliding it down the crease of Ivy’s thigh. 

Ivy shivered as Harley came so close to touching her core, and she saw Harley smile in response. She had never felt so at the mercy of another person, and for Christ’s sake Harley had barely even touched her yet. 

Harley cocked her head to one side as she trailed her finger up the crease of Ivy’s other thigh, then back to right above her mound. Then she moved it down again, skimming over Ivy’s sensitive bud and slowly, so slowly, just along the tippy tops of her inner lips until it was hovering at Ivy’s entrance. 

She left it resting there, gently, as she looked up and met Ivy’s waiting gaze. “Ivy,” she said throatily, “Do you like what I’m doing with my finger?” 

Ivy’s nostrils flared as she breathed deeply, trying to get some oxygen to her brain. “Yes,” she whispered. 

Harley’s gaze drilled into her, holding her captive. Her voice got even lower as she said, “Tell me what you want me to do with my finger now, Ivy.” 

Ivy couldn’t hold back a groan. “God, Harley, I can’t take it anymore! Please, please fuck me!” 

And at last she felt Harley’s finger slip beneath her folds, teasing her entrance. Harley’s confident dominance slipped just a bit as she moaned, “Oh, Ivy, you’re so wet I can’t believe it!” 

And then her finger pushed inside Ivy, and suddenly her lips were on Ivy’s again, and their whole bodies were stretched taut, sliding against one another as Harley began moving her finger in and out, slowly at first and then gathering speed. 

Ivy was so lost in the sensation building inside her, the pressure threatening to explode, that it came as a shock when Harley’s lips suddenly left hers. 

And then she felt them again, on her most sensitive area. Harley removed her finger and slowly licked up Ivy’s entire slit, her tongue lapping between Ivy’s inner lips from her wet entrance all the way to her aching clit. 

Then she licked her again, just like that. And again. And again, until Ivy’s hips were bucking against her, so close now and demanding release. Harley’s left hand gripped Ivy’s hip, forcing her to meet Harley’s pace, and now she focused her tongue just on Ivy’s clit, flicking it up and down, back and forth, swirling around it in hungry circles. 

Then Ivy felt Harley’s finger slide into her waiting entrance again, and this time it was joined by a second finger, and as Harley’s tongue continued its erotic assault on her clit, Harley’s fingers pumped in and out of her. 

She kept a slow pace at first, finding the ways to lick and touch Ivy that drove her insane, and then gradually intensifying things until they were both past a controlled rhythm. Ivy’s hips bucked violently, and Harley had to struggle to keep her mouth on her. She could feel Ivy start to tighten around her as their coupling grew even more insistent, and she couldn’t believe that she was having this effect on her usually controlled friend. 

Harley continued fucking her, gently yet insistently. There was nothing rough about it, and yet it was the most intense thing either of them had ever felt. 

Ivy could feel the waves building inside of her, about to reach their crest and break her. “Oh god, Harley, I’m going to come!” she cried out, and then she was crashing and falling and screaming wordlessly and bucking up from the couch, squeezing Harley’s head between her thighs, and Harley’s fingers were still gently pushing in and out of her as she pulsed around them. 

Ivy fell back, covered in a thin sheen of sweat and completely sated. Harley withdrew her fingers, making Ivy shiver at the feeling as she pulled them out. 

She lay her head on Ivy’s belly and caught her breath for a minute. Ivy giggled, and it bounced Harley’s head and made her giggle too. She turned and looked up at her. Their eyes met. Ivy crooked a finger at her in a “come here” gesture, and Harley crawled up and lay on top of her, trying to avoid direct contact with Ivy’s still-sensitive core. She snuggled into Ivy’s neck and kissed her there. 

Ivy held Harley tight and trailed her fingers up and down Harley’s back and arms. She grinned as she felt Harley lightly bucking her hips against Ivy’s leg, subconsciously seeking her own release but too selfless to say so. It dawned on her that Harley was still in her t-shirt and jeans, while Ivy was completely nude.

“Hey, sweet pea?” she murmured into Harley’s hair. 

“Hmm?” said Harley. 

“Well…” said Ivy, now adding a little more fingernail, a little more intensity where she was skimming her fingers up and down Harley’s back, “It seems to me…” and now she moved her leg quite deliberately where Harley rubbed against her, making the other woman moan, “That you got to have your way with me…” 

And then she sat up straight, using her considerable strength to maneuver them quickly so that Ivy was sitting up on the couch with Harley straddling her. 

Harley looked a little bewildered and oh so aroused. Ivy’s smile was feral as she said, “And now it’s my turn.” And she ripped Harley’s t-shirt right off over her head. 

The role reversal had them both reeling: While Harley had reined in her usual anarchy to drive Ivy wild with her slow-burning control, Ivy’s usual restraint had evaporated and she was absolutely insatiable. She actually growled when she had Harley’s shirt off and could see that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Harley’s perky breasts were inches from Ivy’s face, and she hungrily sucked one into her mouth, digging her fingers into Harley’s lower back and pushing up against her, driving her mad with desire. 

Ivy’s mouth was hot and wet around Harley’s breast as she ravished her nipple, running her tongue around it in tight circles, sucking at it, scraping her teeth over it until Harley yelped in a heady combination of pleasure and pain. Ivy released her nipple with a wet pop, then assailed her other breast the same way, sucking it into her mouth as she rolled the first wet nipple between her fingers. 

Then she pulled back and looked up at Harley. Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back in pure bliss. Ivy had never seen anything so beautiful in her life. She gripped Harley’s back like a lifeline and brought her lips up to suck at Harley’s throat, feeling the blood rush to the skin, marking her. She had no desire to possess Harley, but she sure didn’t mind if people knew she was fucking her. 

Harley moaned and continued to rock against her. Ivy thought she might already be close to coming, and she wanted to feel her more intimately before that. She unbuttoned Harley’s pants, yanked the zipper down, and then even though she’d meant to help her friend get the jeans off entirely, her fingers moved of their own accord and her hand plunged down inside Harley’s panties. 

It was exquisite, the silky feel of her wetness. Now it was Ivy’s turn to moan against Harley’s throat, as her fingers slipped lower and she felt the full extent of Harley’s arousal. Pressed together as closely as they were, there wasn’t much room to maneuver, but Ivy was able to slip her fingers up and down Harley’s slit, and from the way Harley bucked against her, it was having the desired effect.

Then Harley shifted her weight, came down on Ivy’s waiting fingers, and all of a sudden she was inside her. Harley’s eyes snapped open, and their eyes locked in a searing gaze. Ivy marveled at the feeling of Harley’s walls clenched around her fingers as together they found a rhythm that would undo her. 

Harley moved up and down, up and down, pumping her ass against Ivy’s legs, and Ivy grazed sharp teeth along her collarbone and whispered, “Who’s fucking you?” 

“Oh, god,” moaned Harley. “You’re fucking me, Ivy! God, you’re fucking me so hard!” 

Her pace got even faster, uncontrollable, and Ivy could see that she was about to come a split second before Harley spasmed around her fingers and her wetness coated Ivy’s hand and holy shit, why hadn’t they done this sooner? 

When the waves of Harley’s intense orgasm had subsided, Ivy carefully withdrew her hand. They sprawled back on the couch, Harley topless, her pants unbuttoned, and Ivy comfortable in her nakedness. They were both out of breath and sweaty, their bodies sticking together where they touched. 

“All things considered, Dr. Isley…” Harley said, “I think we came up with a decent way to spend our Friday night.” 

Ivy smiled. She was emotionally drained from the storytelling, physically drained from their vigorous coupling…but, for the first time in perhaps her life, she was content. 

“I agree, Dr. Quinzel,” Ivy said. She kissed Harley, gently but with so much promise. “I definitely agree.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fanfic ever, actually the first creative writing I've done as an adult, and I would love any feedback you have.  
> Always looking for ways to improve. Thank you.


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